A Virus in Middle Earth
by Mr. Cloak
Summary: A John-clones falls into the same solar system as Middle Earth. Includes Medicine, Finance, Physics, Biology, and Violence. Also, what happens if you introduce the concept of 'loans' and 'investment' to a dragon. No slash- seriously, what's up with all the bagginsheild fanfiction? Just no. Updating quickly because my muse is rabid.
1. Chapter 1 - Descent

(A/N- start)

Hey everyone! Sorry for the dearth of updates. The job hunt over the last, what, six months? That hunt had crushed my muses into (maybe) a sentence a week.

Now I have a new job (starting on the 9th of January), and I will be working for a consulting company- with an actual paycheck!

*runs in circles to bleed off joy*

It pays enough that I might be able to move out of my parent'a house in six months!

*more running in circles*

Anyway, since I got the call and signed the contracts, I have felt my muses becoming more active, and so I pulled on one, and it gave me this!

This was inspired by the Lord of the Rings trilogy, The Hobbit (book and movies), and the fanfiction In This Strange Place by DragonlordRynn. Check it out- it's really well done.

I will be updating my other stories eventually. Unfortunately, my muses are slow to return, but I will not stop writing.

As usual, I don't own Prototype or the Hobbit.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy. And, as always, I love when y'all review my work. It makes this worth it.

Time to drop someone out in space!

(A/N- end)

* * *

 **Ch 1 - Descent**

* * *

John-clone, and everything within several meters of the experiment, had experienced the unique event of being kicked out of one universe, and the even more unique event of being forced into another, alien one.

Around him,the stars spun- but nearby, only one sun stood out brighter than the rest... And it was far away.

Spreading out his mass, John-clone anchored the debris around him into a single lump, and forced his body to adjust to a new form. Three large panel-like eyes, each a flexible compound eye, extended from stalks in his main body.

Well... There was a star. The growth of a fourth eye allowed John-clone to move his viewpoint in very direction, and, as he looked around, he noticed there was a planet close by... And it was big.

* * *

On a nearby planet, a dark lord had just been defeated, the one ring of power cut from his hand by a broken blade wielded by one of the Dúnedain Kings.

* * *

 ** _Back in distant Solar orbit..._**

It was a light purple gas giant.

His exclamation of "What the fuck?!" Was lost in the vacuum, and so, John-clone exchanged his massive eyes for the biological equivalent of solar panels, and, tossing out pebbles of debris to stabilize his spin, began thinking of what he could do while he was out here.

Sleep.

At least the list was short. After taking a few days (or weeks- time is hard to judge if you have no biological markers to use to measure it), he concluded that he was slowly dropping towards the inner system. A few minutes (probably not hours- he liked to think he was faster than that) thought, and John-clone was using some of the components from his probabilistic displacement drive to rig a crude frame shift drive. Unfortunately, there were not enough parts to build a fusion torus- mostly because he was missing the expensive plating that covers the inside of such a thing, and the gas needed to make such a generator- so he used his own body to build some high-efficiency electrical storage organs.

The hundreds of electricians, chemists, physicists, and engineers he had consumed over the decades were a useful resource here, and soon John-clone had enough capacitance to briefly run the drive. Now, all he had to do is figure out where he could go... Eh, may as well figure it out when he had collected enough power.

A tiny part of his mind set to watching the energy levels, and another watching the surroundings, John-clone drifted to sleep in the inky, starry void.

* * *

 ** _An indeterminate amount of time later..._**

John awoke slowly at first, his dreams having solved the dilemma that all clones shared with a simple solution- he would be John until he met himself, then fuse.

For all living BlackLight entities, sleep was usually a risky venture- if only because the minds of those they consumed were always trying to regain control. John, his infector (or sire if you want to use the vampiric term), and infected siblings had learned how to utterly break the minds of those who were consumed, shards of their consciousnesses dissolving into the torrent that was the prevailing consciousness.

But before that, sleep was brief, and always filled with risk as one mind may gather the strength to fight back and take over. It happened to James Heller, driven him mad, and it could happen to others before John spread his method of shattering the minds of those consumed.

Now? He was woken up by the fact that the tips of his solar power collection panel-organs were burning.

The relative vacuum didn't make his yell of "Fuck!" audible, but he felt better... Right up until the point that he realized that he was rotating, and another panel burst into plasma streams, skimming wisps on the edge of an atmosphere.

Each new expletive was swallowed by the void.

It wasn't a nice atmosphere either. It was deep orange, burnt orange with strands of green and yellow clouds spinning violently beneath him.

Quickly retracting his panels, John considered his position. On one tendril, he was skimming the atmosphere of what could only be described as either a tiny mutant Jupiter or evil Venus duplicate- oh wait, there's a large hurricane. Dwarf mutant Jupiter it is. On another tendril, he was fairly sure that falling into that planet would not be good for him.

On the third tendril, he didn't quite have a full charge to power the drive on full for more than a few seconds, and wouldn't be able to break lightspeed in any case.

Still, survival took precedence, and he connected conducting filaments between the cells he had stored up all that electrical goodness.

Then pain. Lots and lots of pain. Also speed. Lots of that too.

The planet below him vanished in a burst of acceleration even as the cobbled intersystem drive began to sheer from internal flaws, space and time twisted in an intricate braid around the debris that shielded his central body even as another planet expanded into view ahead.

It's moon was in the way.

The space-distorting field around him clipped one of the mountains on the surface of the moon, obliterating it in a spray of molten rock even as the drive finished dissolving, internal sheer forces too great for the jury-rigged drive components.

John was left tumbling, all his protective debris flying off as his extremities, though only a few meters away, experienced gradients of dozens of times earth's gravity.

 _At least I am heading towards a blue-green planet._ John mused as he began venting small puffs of water to try halt his spinning. _Looks pristine too._

* * *

 _ **Several hours earlier...**_

Deep in the Shire, Bilbo Baggins (of Bag End) sat on the antique bench and blew smoke rings into the afternoon sky- only for one of his rings to spontaneously change into a tiny smokey insect. With a tinkling of chimes, the smokebug fluttered into Bilbo's face, only to burst as it tried to land on his nose.

As he blinked away the fumes, Bilbo finally noticed the tall man wreathed in grey robes, with a distinctive pointy hat and usually large walking stick. "Ah... Good morning." He greeted politely.

"What do you mean?" Asked the wizard, his face a mockery of serious thought.

Bilbo puffed on his pipe as he let Gandelf talk- the wizard seemed to like the sound of his own voice. It was one of the many things that people rumored about the old man... Although his age was in question, as many hobbits remembered their grandparents having stories about the wizard.

"Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or that it is a good morning whether or I wish it or not?"

Bilbo seemed to lock up as he thought about that one, even as the wizard looked more and more amused.

"Or, perhaps, that you feel good in this particular morning!" Gandelf was on a roll here. "Or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?!"

After a few seconds more consideration, Bilbo gave a mental shrug. "All of them at once, I suppose."

After an awkward silence the wizard still hadn't walked away, and Bilbo felt compelled to ask. "Can I help you?"

"That remains to be seen." Gandelf muttered ominously. "You see, I'm looking for someone to share in an adventure." He pitched his voice so that it would seem to be enticing, but Bilbo knew better.

He took the pipe out of his mouth. "An adventure? No..." He pointed east. "I don't think anyone west of Bree would have much interest in 'adventures'."

He stood up, all three feet of him, and walked to the mailbox. "Nasty, disturbing... Uncomfortable things." He fiddled with the catch, and pulled out the three letters that had been in his box since the morning. "Make you late for dinner!" Bilbo chuckled.

"Hm..." Gandelf looked skeptical, even as Bilbo looked through his mail, puff on his pipe, and generally just... Do nothing.

Bilbo was quite aware of his status of doing nothing, and smothered his pipe. "Well... Good morning!"

"To think that I should have lived to be 'Good Morninged' by Belladonna Took's son!" Gandelf was somewhat amused, but also annoyed. "As if I was selling buttons at the door!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You've changed... And not entirely for the better, Bilbo Baggins."

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" Bilbo did, but only through heresay.

"You know my name, although you don't remember I belong to it." The wizard muttered the second half of that sentence. "I'm Gandelf, and Gandelf means..." He looked momentarily flummoxed, before finishing with "Me!"

"Gandelf... Gandelf..." Bilbo knew who he was, but he liked to play along sometimes. "Not Gandelf the wandering wizard, who makes such excellent fireworks!" Gandelf looked pleased. "Old Took used to have them on midsummers eve!" Bilbo chuckled before going deadpan. "No idea you were still in business."

"And wherelse should I be?" Snapped the wizard.

"Where else? Ahem..." Bilbo huffed, and vaguely gestured around in the general direction of several places which were not here.

"Well I am pleased to find that you remember something about me." He looked uncomfortable. "Even if it's only my fireworks..." He studied Bilbo intently for a moment, before nodding abruptly. "And that's decided!" He switched which hand was holding his staff. "It will be very good for you!"

Bilbo was now a little concerned.

"And most amusing for me."

Now Bilbo was even more concerned.

Gandelf smirked. "I shall inform the others!"

"What?.." Bilbo was nonplussed by this, and needed a second to get his wits about him. "What! No, no!" He waved the still-gently smoking pipe at Gandelf. "No, wait!"

Gandelf obligingly stopped walking.

Bilbo ran up the steps. "We do not want any adventures here! Not today, not-" Gandelf smirked at him again. "-no. I suggest you try Over the Hill, or Across the Water." Bilbo shook the pipe to indicate various other, unspoken directions to go, before running out of things to say. "Good morning."

He quickly took shelter within his house, and locked the door.

* * *

As night fell, Gandelf watched the stars as he walked. The moon was very beautiful out here in the Shire, and he said so to no one in particular.

"You're right about that sir." Said a passing elderly hobbit, and Gandelf grinned. They were such a cheerful people-

The flare of light around the edge of the moon illuminated the Shire as if it was day for a fraction of a second, but it was enough to be noticed.

"That was... Unusual..." Gandelf muttered to himself. But, after a few minutes of waiting there didn't seem to be any odd things about to happen, he returned to walking.

Interestingly, on his way through the Shire, Gandelf had been delayed by his observation enough to notice Thorin Oakensheild wandering lost by the big oak tree, and was able to hasten him to Bilbo's before dinner was finished.

* * *

Two days after his abrupt deceleration via lunar impact. Two days of falling towards a planet, while beautiful (and rather nice since now he had a gauge for time spent), was also nerve wracking.

Two days were spent desperately forming insulating shapes and ablative surfaces at angles that John knew would keep a small bit of him alive... In theory.

He encapsulated, like a spore, killing off his body outside the spore save for two living structures. First was the living core- a lump the size of a human fist, the absolute minimum needed for him to stay self aware, and then there were the remaining energy cells that he had been using to store energy for this jump.

Specifically, they were fuel cells- hydrogen and oxygen separated via electrophoresis, and then recombined under controlled conditions for power. But those were also the same ingredients that were used for liquid fuel rockets, and so the only other living part within the teardrop-shaped mass that used to be all John was the equivalent of a thruster.

John could see with the segment of living tissue he had reconfigured into rocket nozzles, and so, when he judged the re-entry flames beginning to flicker around the dead shell, he activated the rockets.

This promptly blew up the top segment of his tear-drop as containment failed, and John retracted his remaining flesh into the center nodule.

Landing would be uncontrolled, but he should survive that... Probably.

It would certainly suck. A lot.

 _I really, really don't like reentry..._

* * *

 **End Ch 1**

* * *

Hey everyone! I hope you enjoyed that. Rumors of my death have been a little exaggerated, and I am alive and kicking! Even better, I have a job now!

Anyway, my question for this chapter is the following: How screwed do you think the plot of the Hobbit is going to become?

Please review! Thank you, and Happy New Year


	2. Chapter 2 - Mirkwood

(A/N- start)

I don't own The Hobbit or Prototype. If I did, I would be so damn rich...

Enjoy!

(A/N- end)

* * *

 **Ch 2 - Mirkwood**

* * *

 _20 seconds to impact_

"What's that stench?" Nori choked, trying to breathe over the fumes wafting from deeper in the cave.

"It's a troll hoard." Gandelf remarked. "Be careful what you touch."

* * *

Descent was... Unpleasant.

John had fallen from orbit before- in armored suits, in his own skin- and once because he pissed of Aria after getting into her bed. Who knew the asari didn't like that many tentacles?

But always slow enough that he could be aware of his descent. Now, he felt like he was in a drop pod- unable to see out, only vibrations of turbulence to tell when the atmosphere changed-

The impact, when it hit, disrupted his train of thought. A series of heavy, repeated impacts that threw spiderweb cracks through the entire shell before it came to a halt. Gelatinous though he was, John felt the impacts and relaxed when his pod slid to a halt.

* * *

Within the Greenwood fortress known as the Cave Palace of the elvenking, and known to it's inhabitants as the Woodland Realm, elves were rushing around like disturbed hornets.

Thranduil had been one of those who had seen the descent of the star, and thought that, while it would be an ominous portent, it also would be something that would interesting.

Boredom was a serious problem for elves, and he was thousands of years old. He was really, really bored.

The pattern of footsteps behind his throne told him that his son was approaching. "Father, I request a squad to head into the Greenwood and retrieve the fallen star."

"Hm..." Thranduil drummed a tattoo on the arm of his throne. "Legolas, a question first?"

"Of course, father."

"Is the sacrifice doing well?"

"Tauriel is doing well. Father, I cannot understand why you refer to her as that." Legolas protested.

Thranduil made sure they were alone before answering. "Because she is most likely to die in any engagement, and if you see it it will allow you children of your own one day. Regardless..." He waved a hand dismissively. "You may take your 'team' and go retrieve the fallen star. However..." The elf-King paused for a moment, before smirking. "There may be curious spiders lurking about."

His son's eye-roll was almost audible. "We will be careful, father."

"I meant have fun." Thranduil sighed. "For an elf, you seem to have a great lack of whimsy my son."

"Only following you're example, father." He bowed, and stiffly strode off.

The elf-King blinked. "Sarcasm. Never thought he had it in him."

* * *

Trees. Trees and trees and trees and trees... John, once he had oozed out of the cracks in his shell, had shaped himself into a bat in order to get his bearings in the new environment- and what he saw was not super encouraging.

Trees as far as his ears could hear, and, once he broke the tree-line, there was a city in the distance, but it looked tiny, made of wood, and was sitting on a lake. Frankly the only thing he could compare the world as he knew it to was to one of the many asari conservation planets. Possibly one of the vacation ones- where you could spend truly ludicrous amounts of money living in simulated worse conditions than the poorest colonists could afford.

Like Westworld, or that one that was ninja-themed (it was called Konoha or something like that). "Although, from the building shapes, I would guess more middle-ages than anything else." John muttered as he hovered above the treeline.

There was movement below him, picked up by his rather large ears, and it indicated something at least as large as a human was walking around on... Was that eight legs?

John dove back into the canopy, and almost ran into a thick sheet of webbing. Spiders. Or spider equivalents. A bat-like body melted into a jumping spider in the tiny time it took to free-fall onto the webbing, and, like any jumping spider, he tasted it.

Huh... It even registered like spider to him. That was weird. At least it had some energy in it. John cut a smaller segment that was filled with more loving insects than dead ones, and consumed it, instinctively categorizing the tiny lifeforms as he did so.

Bees, wasps, flies, a great deal of different insects- and ones all that he recognized! What, is this a custom planet? Nibbling on the tree didn't help alleviate his mind- it was a beech tree! Just... What?

This wasn't Earth! The air was unsullied by the taste and smell of industrial materials that even the better air scrubbers couldn't really extract, and even the airborn flora and fauna (plankton-like spores and all) tasted too similar to Earth life- but with an odd texture... As if it was artificial? No, not synthetic. But odd.

Still, every planet he had ever been on had tasted unique, so maybe it was just an ATP variation brought on by a decade or two of divergence.

Tiny hairs on his legs twinged, telling him that there were other spiders on this web... Which he knew already, but that they were moving this way. And fast.

Thinking like the predatory spider he was (at the moment), John sighted and jumped. Landing on one of the few dark patches of non-web-covered tree in the upper canopy was easy, as was coloring his exterior to match the bark. There he waited, large eyes pulling in all the light they could in the darkness of this forest.

He was right about the spiders. The smallest of which was six feet long, and moved in a slightly unnerving way- as if the exoskeleton was not quite right. Each one chittering in a way that seemed to mimic speech patterns if nothing else, they gathered around his broken pod.

Unfortunately for the spiders, unlike Earth spiders, most of their eyes seemed to be on the front of their cephalothorax, giving them a rather large blind spot on the back end of their abdomen.

John leapt, fangs outstretched, and easily pierced through the thick leather that these spider-things had instead of exoskeleton. Once there was a sufficient wound, his front legs and pedipalps pulled open the laceration, and pulled his main body inside. It was a tight fit, and the spider-thing began to freak out even as John relaxed his shape, infecting, consuming, and observing what he had just eaten.

First, and obviously, these were not arthropods. They didn't have an exoskeleton at all- rather, a thick leather skin with harder plate-like structures protecting it. They had an endoskeleton, and large, advanced lungs in its abdominal cavity (which were consumed quickly), but also an advanced silk-producing organ that was more than four percent more calorically efficient than the one John used (along with the large digestive tract expected of a predator that size).

Unlike an arthropod, John noted as he expanded into the cephalothorax, it didn't have nervous tissue along the underside of its body like he expected. Rather, it was in the middle of its body, like a spindle, and met up with the eyes astoundingly close to the surface of it's face.

It's poisons were unremarkable, and for some reason they had four envenoming fangs rather than two- with two separate venoms. One primarily paralytic, and the other necrotic. Like... The opposite of iodine, when he exposed it to some flash-grown tissues it only attacked the multicellular tissues rather than the bacteria.

Nasty stuff.

Then he hit its brain, and was very surprised. It could speak one language and understood four others! It even thought in words!

It's last thought was _By Ungoliant, it's inside me!_ before its thoughts belonged to John.

Interestingly, they had a strong aversion to light- both instinctive and biologically, as the spider-thing had an astounding number of light-sensitive patches on its body connected directly to pain receptors. Within the carcass, John began shaping his new body- still sticking with the spider motif, but with a few adaptations to... Scare off the locals.

* * *

From the perspective of the spiders, this night had been a bad one. First, no larger prey than a fieldmouse had wandered into their webs. Then, this... Thing, fell into the forest and destroyed a chunk of their webbing in a productive area. And now, one of their number was dead- killed by something small, and very fast.

Cruncher (named for the sound he made gnawing bones when he was smaller) approached the carcass of his brother, which lay on the branch, twitching where it collapsed. He poked the corpse, and nothing happened.

The slurping, crackling sound that accompanied his brother's death didn't help- although its absence was not making the spiders feel any better. They knew the sounds of being eaten, and they were usually the ones who ate.

Suddenly, and without warning, the corpse burst apart, and blazing light leapt forth, scattering spiders in its wake.

Cruncher ran- he did not like the light, and the pain of it flaring meant that it was unlikely that they would be seeking prey the next night either.

* * *

John chuckled as he consumed the rest of the spider's remains, bioluminescent stripes along his carapace dimming as he took stock.

Once he had consumed the spider entirely, John guessed he massed around 200 lbs or so- enough to run his Claws, Musclemass, Tendrils, Armor, Hammerfists, and other combat-specialized shapes for a humanoid.

But it was also enough for a humanoid shape- and John struggled at what to look as. 200 lbs of spider may be intimidating, but if this was an asari preserve, he didn't want to seem out of place. Even if there were other species around, until the Loa got up to speed, it was likely that this was anything but an asari preserve.

Although the giant spiders were a little odd- maybe this was a fantasy-themed resort/preserve? The blue ladies loved that sort of thing. Hell, there was even supposed to be a planet where one of the megacorps had engineered and cloned dinosaurs on the different land masses!

With that thought in mind, John began building his 'walkabout' body. Female of course- all asari were female. He drew heavily from the build of few Justicar he had consumed for their muscle density and placement, and from his breif tryst with Aria he drew her face and, well, figure. Of course he made his new body symmetrical- asymmetrical muscles didn't give asari a benefit. Then, he coated his (or her) new body in a black bodysuit, small bioluminescent organs mimicking LED's, and over that he would have placed armor- but he was out of mass.

John sighed, and collapsed back into the giant jumping spider. A few more spiders will provide him with more than enough mass to for decent armor and an increase in density. 200 lbs was nowhere near a healthy weight for any Evolved.

At least the spiders were easy to track- they were, after all, rather pungent-smelling creatures.

Sighting carefully, and leaving a thick dragline of silk behind him, John leapt into the forest after his prey.

* * *

It is understandable for people to think that elves are good at everything- they have a long time to practice and refine their skills. Hunting and gathering in Ardas was a necessity for most of them too, as they didn't farm too much.

So when they came upon the crashed cocoon, no larger than a grown elf, the small group of hunters grew concerned. Something had come out of this... Thing, and spooked some spiders that had come earlier to investigate.

Legolas, being the captain of this squad, studied the cocoon and the impromptu hole that it punched in the forest. The impact crater was not very wide, nor was the crack within the pod large. After a moment of thought, he pulled out one of his hunting knives and tried to cut the material.

It scraped on the surface, but did not penetrate it. There was not even a scratch mark on the material, other than through the ash that covered it from the descent to earth.

"Peculiar..." Legolas only had a few moments to consider the hardness before his lieutenant/sacrifice dropped from a higher branch.

"Captain." Tauriel saluted. "You might want to come see this."

"Is it more important than retrieving a piece of the fallen star?" Legolas questioned, slamming his dagger's pommel into the material- and getting nothing but a flare of sparks for his attempt. Annoyed by his lack of success, he gestured to four of his squad. "You! Return to the Woodland Realm and retrieve four horses, a cart, and some more elves. We need to bring this cocoon back to the king!"

Four assents echoed in the woods even as the elves vanished into the thick forest.

"Everyone else, guard this!" Legolas finally turned to Tauriel. "Lieutenant, show me what you found."

The two elves quickly ascended the tree, into a larger clearing in the upper branches where the webs were thick.

Oddly, Tauriel pointed to some gouges on a tree. "Here, something waited in ambush for at least one spider, possibly more. And here.." She pointed to a large black stain on the silk webbing that they stood upon. "That's spider blood. But the most curious thing..." She nimbly jumped down to a branch lower on the tree. "Is this." She carefully plucked out a claw that had been snapped off in a crevice, and handed it to Legolas.

It was a spider claw- one of the ones on their middle legs, if he was any judge. And it had been torn off, as there was some viscera left on it- but as he took care to notice the crevice, there was surprisingly little blood- certainly less than he would expect if a spider had ripped it off through negligence or clumsy footing. Less still than if it had been in a fight with its brethren.

"We must keep a close eye on the woods." Legolas stated. "Something else is here. We return to the Woodland Realm as soon as we can."

* * *

Four spiders later, and John was feeling a great deal better. Not only was he around a ton now (as a healthy Evolved should be), he managed to keep this shape working when he was the size of a small truck!

This did, however, have some drawbacks. Mainly in terms of density. If he made himself smaller, he wouldn't be able to jump without leaving huge craters-

Wait. Why is that a bad thing?

John cackled, a sound that was absolutely terrifying with his current physical set up, and changed again. Six legs this time- eight were annoying to deal with. Oh, and not insect-like... Let's go mammalian, give some gamekeeper a heart attack. Fur- sure, why not. Long, sinuous body- better for weaving around trees. Jaws? May as well add some strong ones; Hyenas had good jaws, may as well template off those.

Oooh! And eyes! Eyes for days! More unholy laughter echoed through the forest as he worked, more disturbing than the last batch as it came from a voice box that certainly had more holes than a pipe organ.

Hey, cooling would be an issue with fur.

John swept around his tail, eyes opening and shutting along his length, and grinned with a a face that only a hyena could love. Maybe.

Eighteen feet of black fur rippled, eyes of various colors and shapes opened and closed along his length; when hidden, naughty but slits were visible as folds in the fur. But open, each darted around to see something different.

As usual with a new form though, John couldn't help but tweak it. Glowing patches under the eyes on his face and randomly under his fur gave the appearance of stars in a night sky. And then, just on a whim, he grew three pairs of horns in just the right shapes to hold a rider.

A few tweaks to make the face slightly more skeletal, and damn, he was terrifying.

"Yes..." John rumbled from a throat that really wasn't built for it. "This will be fun to wear. Now..." He looked around in all directions simultaneously. "Where the fuck am I?"

* * *

 **End Ch 2**

* * *

I hope y'all enjoyed that. Yes, I am updating quickly- this muse is insistent, and I need to sleep.

Question of the Chapter- how should John face Smaug? Specifically, what form should he use?


	3. Chapter 3 - The Lake

(A/N- start)

 _Italics can mean thoughts, "Or speech in an unfamiliar language."_ Did y'all understand that?

I don't own The Hobbit or Prototype. If I did, I would be so damn rich...

Enjoy!

(A/N- end)

* * *

 **Ch 3 - The Lake**

* * *

This forest was a nightmare to navigate. The trees were almost shaped with the deliberate intention of being confusing, and every path, save the ones in the trees made by spiders, was overgrown. There was even a slight hallucinogen in the air, although it didn't effect him.

John just thickened his fur to razor-sharp blades, and went straight in one direction- towards the nearest large body of water. He had seen a town built on top of it- maybe he could find a phone.

"Although," he muttered to himself as he wove through the forest, "these planets usually were very keen on staying in character... I'll watch for a day before entering, so I can wear the right costume."

* * *

The first thing John noticed, in his day of observation, was that inhabitants of this town-on-the-lake were filthy. Diseases that didn't even exist ANYWHERE were all over the place, and the stench of unwashed human in absolutely massive amounts was... Well, if he had a stomach, there would be a pool of vomit spreading out from his hiding place between the rocks.

Why did they choose to live like this? Their life-expectancies must be less than fifty years, and death would come at the hands of horrible illnesses- probably contagious ones too.

John eased out of his hiding place even as he chuckled at the thought of any BlackLight strain calling another infection 'horrible'. Seriously though, these people were disgusting plague pits, and John wouldn't touch them if there was better biomass around to consume. The memories would be filled with illness and pain for years. He hated that.

Put him right off his food, as it were. But he did need information... May as well collect it from one of the locals. Specifically, why did they insist on remaining so technologically stunted of their own volition? Even the Amish towns allowed for advanced medical technology to be kept in their villages.

Though... He would need a bit more mass for his devious plan.

* * *

Bard the Bargeman hated his job. He really, really hated it. All he was allowed to do was collect barrels that were dumped into the river from the elven-king's fortress, and deliver them to another man in town who would fill them with various mixes. Then a third man would take the barrels out of town on a cart, and place them on the shore- where an elven wagon would collect them to be drained and reused once more, leaving a sack of gold in their wake.

He saw the sack once- saw in it even! But he, and the others in the chain would never have more than half that gold altogether. Most of it went to the Master, as did the gold or jewels of any business on the lake.

As he loaded barrel after barrel onto his barge, he had nothing but time to think. To think about ways where he may try to wrest some control over his life, to give a better life for his children. Perhaps just find a source of a little more coin to try and purchase healing herbs for his wife- her cough had been getting worse these last few days.

 _"Excuse me?"_ The words were obviously words, but not any language he had ever heard.

Bard spun around, shortbow coming up and around with a smooth and practiced movement to aim at the figure that spoke- and froze.

The first thought that hit him, and the one that hit like the hammer on an anvil, was that of eyes. Too many eyes, watching, each blinking in its own time and opening with a different color and pupil.

From there he was able to barely see the shape in the torchlight, but since every pupil seemed to glow with an inner light, he was able to make out a smooth, predatory shape that prowled just outside the light of his torch. Like a wolf, he guessed, but bigger and longer, with a curiously short (but wide) muzzle and very, very large teeth- not long, but wide, they glinted in the light.

The glow of the eyes upon its head were bright, but less bright than the patches along the bottom of its cheek bones that lit up with a brightness that dazzled his senses- and suddenly the thing was in the light.

It was long- longer than his boat, and covered in dark fur. Of the eyes, there was no sign, save the two on its head- and under the light it looked like a wolf with an extra two front paws and elongated body.

Almost like a wolf- the horns and figure sitting upon them put him off the idea though. The creature's rider was garbed in black, almost insect-like armor, and, even with a helmet of obsidian, it was obviously female.

Bard absently wondered how the figure could see through the dark material, and aimed down slightly at the creature's head.

It huffed and rolled its eyes at him.

"Do not come any closer!" Bard absolutely did not stammer, in the face of this unusual entity, even though every instinct was telling him to run- to hide and hope those eyes never appear again, for that would mean it found you.

The body slithered silently back out of the light, save for the head and it's occupant- who looked rather bored. "Very well." She said, and leaned down on the crown of horns. "In any case, I am curious about the town upon the lake. Are you willing to answer a few questions?"

Her voice was not inhuman- but Bard took no chances. "I will not speak on friendly terms with those who consort with demons or monsters!"

"Monsters? Demons?" The woman sighed. "There is no chance that this is an _Asari_ world, is it?"

He did not lower his aim. "Neither will I speak with someone whose face I cannot see!"

"You are speaking with me now. _Dumbass._ "

Bard could hear the annoyance in her voice clearly- did the helmet have hidden slits? It should be muffling her voice. He did not, however, respond to the outburst.

 _"No asari? Of course I managed to land on a probabilistically impossible planet with near-earth-life, transplanted trees, and humans on it. May as well fuck up this planet while I'm here."_ The woman muttered in her strange language, before pushing something on the underside of her helmet, which slid apart smoothly- like clockwork.

"Well?" The blue-purple, hairless woman smirked at his awestruck expression. "Will you speak with me now, or do I need to find someone else of more cunning wit to answer some questions?"

Bard lowered the bow, but kept it strung and the arrow notched. He did relax his arm though. At this range he would not miss, even if she left the firelight. "I will answer your questions- but you must do the same for my own."

She nodded, still smiling. "Agreed! As a sign of good faith, you may ask the second question."

"What was the first?" Bard asked, before he winced at his foolishness.

"I asked you if you would answer my questions- and yes, you just asked your first question just then." She rolled her eyes as Bard's arrow twitched. "But you may ask another... From my experience," she added in a secretive tone, "people tend to forget to think before they speak."

Bard glared. "Very well, what is your purpose here?"

"To find a way to leave. My turn: Where is this world called?"

Bard blinked. "I do not understand your question."

"This world!" She said, exasperated. "All of its lakes and rivers and oceans and mountains and continents! What do you call it?"

"The elves-" Bard smirked as he watched both her and the creature she was riding twitch. "-call it Arda." Well, he smirked until he saw eyes open in the darkness, staring at him. "Can you close the eyes of your mount? They are unsettling."

"No. His eyes are his own. You mentioned elves- describe them." Her face had gone oddly blank.

"Shorter than most men, but stronger, more agile, and more elegant." Bard was not all too fond of elves. "They live a long time, and are... Aloof to those who are of the same kind as their own. Now, who and what are you? I have never seen your like before- nor that of your steed."

"That was not a question, boatman." She tapped on the horn as she spoke, the tick of not metal on horn but bone on bone. It was an unsettling sound. "If there are elves, how... No. I will not ask that." She glared at the forest. _"Damn spiders were useless- senses were too oblique to make a coherent picture of who was hunting them. Maybe I should just eat this human for the information... But he smells so bad!"_ Then she perked up. "Tell me- as it is my turn, what do you call your own... Kind?"

"I am of the race of Man." Bard was confused, mainly at her question, but was more annoyed that she got two in a row. He would not be the lesser in this conversation. "Now, answer my question!"

"You may call me... Eris." She smirked, as if enjoying a private joke. "I am an Asari, and this-" she patted the creature, which thrummed like an earthquake, "- is... Well, my mount. I don't really have a name for him." She kept petting her mount as she watched him- and Bard felt distinctly uncomfortable.

Maybe it was because one of her eyes was a vivid, emerald green while the other was a deep, almost glowing purple. Or because she didn't seem to blink much, and his eyes were beginning to water in sympathy. Either way, Bard was... Unsettled.

"If you want, you could name him." She rubbed an ear- one of four, Bard noticed, each twitching on its own. "But perhaps not now. My question next: why are you so... _Primitive._ Well, there isn't a word for it in this language. Why do you use such old knowledge?"

"Lady Eris, that question doesn't make any sense."

She rolled her eyes. "Very well... How about this: what is the most complicated discipline that you know of? The one most complex?"

"I... Do not know. Ask a different question."

She frowned- not much, but a little, before gesturing at his bow. "How long have your people known how to make bows and arrows?"

"Many thousands of years. Three or four thousands of years, I would guess." He was perplexed. "Why do you want to know?"

"I want to know how _advanced_... Damn, no word for that either. How creative? No. How intelligent this... World is." Eris was frowning. "What is the most complicated piece of workmanship by any living hands that is not natural?"

"The dwarven Wind-Lance." Bard surmised, still trying to puzzle out her last answer.

"Ohh! I thought of a name! Oculus!" Eris rubbed a spot between the horns that Bard doubted the large paws could reach. "Do you like that name?" She cooed, even as Bard heard the tail thump against the ground, and watched the two-foot-long, glowing tongue come out as the thing panted. "I guess you do. Good boy!"

The newly-named Oculus made another earthquake noise (one that was felt more than heard), before dipping it's large head to rest on the ground. It's tongue still lolling out in the perfect expression of a happy pet, eyes closing one after the other as the tail (longer than Bard was tall), thumped on the ground repeatedly.

Bard's mouth dropped open at seeing the massive, and unnerving creature acting like one of the dogs that the master kept guarding his house. "What... Is that?"

"Oculus is a Silence- similar to a wolf, I think." She kept rubbing different spots on the beast's head as she talked. Bard thought she looked ridiculous sitting on it's head while scratching different points along it. "Now, can you take me to see this 'Wind-Lance'?"

Bard looked at the lolling creature, then at the inhuman rider. "... Not unless you are willing to pay a great deal."

"What sort of currency do you use?" Before he answered, she shook her head. "Wait- before you answer that- would you take payment in services rendered?"

"What sort of services?" Bard asked, then quickly amended. "And I am married, so if that is what you are suggesting-"

"No." She deadpanned. "I was referring to helping you get over the massive number of chronic diseases you carry. Several parasites have infested you, and I can see at least three diseases that will only make your life harder before long."

"You are a healer?" Bard relaxed now, placing the arrow back into the sheath and both bow and arrows into the boat.

"Due to your question without letting me ask, I would say we are becoming more friendly." She relented when Bard nicked up the bow again. "Hold your fire! _Damn this language is cumbersome._ But yes, I am skilled with making medicines, diagnosing illnesses, producing cures, and on rare occasions sculpting flesh."

That turned the man green. "Sculpting flesh? What does that entail?"

"Are we trading questions again?" She smirked. "No matter. It entails the manipulation of life on the smallest level, so that it may spread and change into something else given time and food to do so. Will you show me this 'Wind Lance'?"

Bard rolled a barrel onto his barge, and considered the request. His wife was sick, and this stranger with a very odd pet wanted to see the Wind-Lance... Oh, and the stranger happened to be a Healer, without coin.

He turned back to her, and noticed that she had gotten off her mount. Not only that, the Silence was laying on its back, legs in the air, as she rubbed its belly, tail still thumping, but no other noises were coming from it. "Your pet is very... Quiet. Apt, for a creature called a Silence." He said absently.

The green-violet eyes that focused on him made him shudder as she stopped petting the creature to focus on him. "Yes." She said softly, scratching at somewhere under the fur. "He is. Your answer, if you would be so kind."

"Very well." Bard began to roll the last barrel into his barge. Once it was seated, he pointed towards the western bank where Laketown was situated. The bridge to Laketown is on that side. I will meet you at dawn on the entrance to the bridge- and I will pay for your entry-" she was looking hopeful. "-IF and only if you can help someone that I provide."

"Done!" Eris sashayed up to him, Oculus righting himself to watch his rider close with Bard. "How do you seal these agreements between men?"

"Usually with a handshake-" Bard flinched as her hand was suddenly extended. "... I will see you at dawn."

She grinned. "Agreed... You know, I don't know your name."

He gripped her armored gauntlet. "My name is Bard."

"Pleased to meet you Bard."

They shook on it.

* * *

 **End Ch 3**

* * *

Remember, us writers like reviews.


	4. Chapter 4 - The Lance

(A/N- start)

i hope you liked the back-to-back updates. My job is, understandably, taking up most of my time, so after this chapter I will post one or so a week. I wish I could do more, but I need to eat too.

I don't own The Hobbit or Prototype. If I did, I would be so damn rich...

Enjoy!

(A/N- end)

* * *

 **Ch 4 - The Lance**

* * *

John, or Eris, waited at the far end of the lake, sitting on his steed. Well, sitting on himself. Controlling two bodies was not difficult- especially since he was communicating via electromagnetic resonance between the two bodies. He was in both bodies, and directing everything.

Still, it meant he was slightly slower, with his consciousness split between the two points of view. He was only ten times faster than a human in reaction time, rather than the usual eighteen times, but it made him feel more human.

Or asari. John rolled all twenty eyes between his two bodies, and picked up a few seeds from a passing bush using Oculus's fur. A scoop of dirt, and now he was ready to begin working.

Time to give these people some better healthcare- via viruses.

Hair-thin tendrils reached out from between his armored fingers to begin modifying the seeds, even as his body began forming more and more detailed tissues for his Asari form.

By the time dawn came around, the only presence BlackLight had in this body was in the nervous system, and a few other useful places. _She_ would be safe to touch.

Eris was really an asari now- although Oculus was still completely made of the virus.

Playing with too many handicaps was not any fun- life did not need to be set on hard mode. Not yet anyway...

* * *

Bard returned to an ill household, worried about where he had been. His discussion with Eris had gone on for long enough to delay him, and Astrid, his wife, had gotten a little worse over the last few days. Not she didn't seem too bad- the coughing was not as painful now, and the fever seemed to have alleviated a little, but as she lay in bed, her coughs sounded more wet.

Sigrid and Tilda, his daughters, were asleep, but his son Bain was still awake.

As he put a kettle of water on the fire to boil, Bard walked over to his wife and gently grasped her hand over the covers.

"I. knew. you. would. come." She had to take a breath between each word. "I. want. to. say. goodbye."

"No!" Bard looked into the exhausted eyes of his wife, and hugged her. "I found someone- someone who might be able to help. Can you wait until after you meet them?"

Deep blue eyes blinked slowly. "Bard. I. love. you. but. I. am. so. tired."

"Just a little longer!" The teakettle was steaming now, and Bard grasped at it like a lifeline. "Here- I can make some more willowbark tea. Or some other tea."

Slowly, with great effort, Astrid raised her hand to caress his cheek. "Captain. My captain. I will. Linger. For. A while..." She coughed a few times, thick slime coming up with every hacking convulsion.

Bain came over, carrying a pile of handkerchiefs. "I washed and dried these mum- here."

Bard smiled and took the kerchiefs. "Thanks Bain. Are Sigrid and Tilda alright?"

"Sigrid is coughing, and Tilda is beginning to run a fever." Bain stated. Everything about him showed exhaustion and fear. "I gave them some of the tea- it seemed to help."

"Good." Astrid reached out with her unoccupied hand, and feebly grasped for her son. Bain quickly sat by the bed and helped her as his mother tried to hug him. "You. Have. Done. Well. Bain." She gasped, and took a deep, watery breath. "I love you."

Bain made to stand up, but as Bard tried to follow Astrid gently squeezed, and he leaned back against the headboard.

"Please. don't. leave."

Bard never felt so helpless. His wife was dying, and he couldn't do anything. That stranger might. "Bain, how long is it until sunrise?"

His son looked out the window. "Maybe a couple hours. You were late tonight, da."

Bard nodded, his mind whirling. "Right. Get over to the woodcarvers-"

"Bill's place?"

"The very same. Tell him the Captain is calling in a favor, and we need a cart. I know he had been repairing a cart yesterday. Get it to the market in-road. I will get your mum there by the time you have it- go!"

Bain shit out of the house, his footsteps silent- exactly as Bard had taught him.

Bard never looked away from Astrid, who, while coughing quietly, watched him with a gleam in her eye. "My. Captain... You. Have. A. Plan?"

"Astrid, my Raven, I was late returning tonight because I met someone while retrieving barrels from the culvert." Bard could not help but feel a tiny flicker of hope in his chest. "She is not human, but is a healer, who rides a great beast of darkness and silence. She wants to enter the town, to see the Wind-Lance, and I agreed to do so- if she would heal you."

Astrid looked unconvinced. "You. Trust. Her?"

"It is worth trying to." Bard rubbed the back of her hand- she was almost skin and bones at this point. The fever had lasted weeks, and the cough had lasted more than a month. "If she is wrong, you will be able to see Laketown from the outside before..."

She smiled, and when she spoke next, it was in a whisper. "Then take me wherever you wish, my captain." At least she didn't need to breathe between every word. "I will wait."

"Good. I will wake Sigrid and Tilda- we need to go. Now."

* * *

Getting into Laketown was difficult at the best of times- you needed a passport to enter with cargo. Said passport contained a manifest of the cargo, proof of permission to enter with designated cargo (signed by the master's deputy, one Alfrid Lickspittle), and a payment to enter of five silver pennies.

That was if you were not willing to pay the 'assessment fee', twenty silver pennies (or one gold one), a fee leveraged on everyone who entered without a passport.

Per person.

Leaving Laketown was easier- all you needed was to pay the fee at the gate. A modest five silver pennies, and a pre-signed passport would be provided. Per person, naturally.

For every delivery Bard made, he managed to save three silver pennies. One was spent for food every day for his family, and one was placed into a jar for clothes and other necessities.

The third was placed into his coin pouch- hidden in such a way that it would be nigh-impossible for any thief or searching party to find unless they knew exactly where it was. In a easily-missed crevice on one of the beams in the center room, he had managed to save fifty-six silver pennies, and now... Now he had enough for one trip with everyone out and back- maybe enough to reach Rohan if they went up past the Forest River... No, down the River Running to the Old Forest Road, then off the river Anduin until they reach the Argonath. A three week journey, if Eris fulfilled her part of the bargain, and he could stock up on supplies after showing the blue woman the master's tower.

He took the other jar as well- no sense leaving money around unguarded. Another thirty-two coins would be useful.

Bard looked back towards the cart he and Bain were pulling. Astrid and his daughters were curled up in the back, all the blankets their house had covering them as they tried to keep out the cold. They had to stop, however, as they had reached the gate- which was closed.

Bard and Bain gently placed the harness each respective one was pulling as a thin, aged voice cried out from the gatehouse. "Halt! Stand for inspection!"

Exactly who Bard had not expected. Nighttime visitors to the city were often 'detained at the master's pleasure, and he had never heard of someone leaving before dawn... But the gatekeeper was not who he would have first guessed. "William Billson? Is that you?"

"Captain Bard?" The light in the gatekeeper's station brightened as an old man, with a great deal more grey in his beard than Bard, walked out of the gatehouse. His one eye flickered over them, before focusing on the man he had trained. "What are you leaving so late for? And why have I not seen you in many a long year? In such rags too- I thought you to keep better care of your gear than that!"

Bard clasped arms with his old mentor. "Teacher William, I am glad to see you again, but I am in a hurry. My wife and daughters are sick, and I must leave to meet a healer."

William the teacher-turned-gate-guard straightened. "Of course. Do you know the price?"

"Five silver for each of us- that makes twenty-five for us to leave." Bard handed over the money. "I may be entering with an extra person on the way back in, and she has a steed."

"A horsewoman, eh?" William answered absently. "Is she auditioning for a job with the Archers?"

"Not quite..." Bard winced as William's eye fixed in him in the middle of a stamp. "I was released from my oath to serve as captain of the Laketown Archers three years ago."

The old man huffed. "Such stupidity. In my day, the master would never have let a warrior of your talents go. Then again..." He tapped his chin in consideration. "I was 'encouraged' to join the master's watch, so I can see it." He handed the papers to Bard, and clapped his hand on the younger man's shoulder.

Bard's legs nearly buckled. William was not a weak man in his old age.

"That is the way of things of late." He grumbled. "The master chooses who may do what, when, and how. It is his lake after all."

"William, I promise I will come back- but we need to leave. Now."

William waved a scarred hand, retreated back into his gatehouse. "Go ahead."

And, after a minute or so, the portcullis rose.

* * *

Dawn was breaking as Bard and Bain finally reached the end of the bridge to shore. Well, calling it a bridge wasn't exactly fair- it was more akin to a length of barges, where each was connected to the others in such a way that it could flex and bend, but did not sink.

Eris was waiting, leaning against Oculus as the many-eyed beast snoozed in one of the long shadows cast by Laketown, wearing her dark helm. When Bard was close enough, she spoke. "So... My patient is in the cart, then?"

"Please mistress healer." Bain preempted his father. "My mother and sisters are really sick-"

Eris raised a hand. "I agreed already. Healing in exchange for getting me into and out of the town. Now..." She stood up, and walked towards the cart. "Bard- can you make a fire?"

"Why?"

"Being warm will make the patient more comfortable, and I want to be able to boil water just in case I need to /sterilize/any instruments... Oh wait, that word doesn't exist in this language. Um... Clean thoroughly? Yes, that fits." She looked into the cart, and frowned at the pile of blankets. "Now... You didn't bring any equipment, did you?"

"Lady Eris, I though you would have everything you need." Bard questioned. Healers often brought everything they needed- if they did at all.

"First, I need to see the patient." She reached into the bundles, and pulled out Astrid, who stifled a cough as Eris looked at the thin bundle in her arms.

"This is the healer?" Astrid whispered. "She looks like a warrior than a healer."

"Looks like /pneumonia/. Do you feel something odd sloshing when you breathe?" Eris pulled out a small flower from a hidden pouch (Bard immediately wondered how he had missed it), and held it up to his wife's lips.

"Yes..." Astrid said slowly, looking cross eyed at the flower that was being held right in her face.

"Great. Well, I have some berries that will help with that." Eris placed Astrid back in the cart as she clicked her tongue.

Every eye on Oculus's body snapped open at once, making Bard wince while his son yelped and scrabbled away. The large predator yawned, before silently padding over to Eris, who began rummaging in a pack on one of his horns with one of her arms as she kept holding the flower in front of Astrid's face.

Bard was mentally kicking himself- how did he miss the fact that there were saddlebags on the Silence's horns?

The flower began to change color, each petal turning a different hue as Eris pulled out a small leather bag. After looking at the flower illuminated by the slowly rising sun, she counted out several small, white dried berries.

She handed several to Astrid. "Ok, take two of these today, then the rest one day at a time. DO NOT CHEW THEM. I recommend you take it now, as you should feel some result by tomorrow. Now..." She rummaged, and pulled out another two bags. After counting out a few other dried berries, she handed a purple one to Astrid, who promptly swallowed it. "That is... To help deal with all the liquid, and prevent coughing. You won't feel as thirsty, but your lips may crack a lot. This one." Eris held up a blue berry. "Is a general... Kill-all."

Bard was suddenly by his wife's side. "Kill-all?"

"It will help kill all the... Bad bugs she has built up over the years. You all have a great deal of sicknesses, and I cannot build on a shaky foundation." Eris dropped the berry into Astrid's hand, and did the odd little thing that folded back her helmet.

Bain gasped, as did Astrid.

Eris patted Astrid's shoulder. "You... What's your name?"

"Astrid." Came the weak reply.

"Nice to meet you Astrid, I'm Eris. Astrid has at least four _chronic_ infections... Old infections?" Eris pinched the bridge of her nose. "This language is so unwieldy. At least four old infections. In my language that little berry there holds materials that kill off most of the ills you are dealing with on a day-to-day basis. All of you- that means you other two in the cart, are all dealing with old diseases that are keeping you from healing all the way."

"But I'm not sick!" Bard protested.

"You are- you are just so used to it that you don't feel them anymore." Eris snorted. "Back when I was a child, my mother and grandmother would tell me stories of how their ancestors were killed off by those who thought them witches for outliving everyone around them for multiple generations. It was because they were clean- free of old illnesses and with no little bugs that bite."

She looked out to the lake, then frowned. "Speaking of being clean, how do you deal with... How do I put this... Where do you crap?"

"What?" Bain asked, somewhat dazed at seeing a person with blue skin.

"Where do you clean yourselves? Evacuate yourselves?" Eris made vague gestures, and Astrid was the first to get it.

"We have a seat over the lake water." She popped the blue berry into her mouth, and swallowed before taking a deep breath to talk. "And we clean using the lake water."

"Please tell me you at least boil it first?" Eris visibly sagged as Bard shook his head. "Well, you better start trying to do so, because no matter what I do this will be difficult to deal with." She perked up. "Indeed- I will give you something that may help improve the state of this town... But I should probably check the other two within the cart."

Sigrid and Tilda were both observed (and frozen stiff almost by seeing the blue healer), but were given other berries. Sigrid was given the same berries as her mother, while Tilda was given the blue berry and a bright green one.

"Now, you should feel better inside one half an hour." Eris said as Tilda swallowed the berry. "It will push down the fever. If it is having trouble, I will give you some bright yellow berries- take only one of each, no sooner than six hours apart, alternating. Only take them together if the fever will not go down... Oh, and your live may be hurt if you take too many, so as soon as the fever goes away and does not come back, stop taking them."

"Why would our livers be hurt?" Tilda asked.

"There is a really long answer for that, and I don't think most of the words exist in this language." Eris thought for a second. "The short answer is that your liver breaks down harmful things that your body makes while trying to make useful things. This process is happening all the time, but if you drink too much alcohol, or take too many green berries at once, your liver cannot do its job, and dies. Then you die- horribly." At the cheerful proclamation, Eris pulled out several small bags, and filled them with berries from the original bags.

Then she pulled out a charcoal piece, marking each one with a different symbol before handing them to Astrid and the girls.

"Take the berries as I have stated... Or you may not heal very well." She turned to Bard and Bain. "Now... You two..." She thrust out a hand, and two dried blue berries were sitting on the black glove. "Take these."

They did so- and both coughed as they did.

Eris began putting the bags back in their places. "Now, my part of the job is done- will you show me the WindLance?" She held up an even smaller bag, this one with four seeds in it. "I will give you the seeds of the berries that I gave you if we can get your family back home quickly. This will not be pleasant."

* * *

With Eris's help (actually, more laughter than help), they managed to get Oculus to pull the cart (he acted like he thought it was a toy at first) back to Laketown.

The gate guards were surprised to see a tall, armored woman, and were particularly wary around Oculus, but let them through all the same.

After putting Astrid and the girls back home, safe under the watchful eye of Bain while the berries that Eris fed them did their work, Bard, Eris, and Oculus walked into the middle of the trading square- a large, empty platform of wood between several stalls. It was quiet, as it was still early morning, and only a few people had business at dawn.

Still, the ascending sun provided more than enough light to the see the Wind-Lance, perched on the top of the Master's tower, and Bard pointed it out to the helmeted healer.

She did not approve.

"The most advanced device you know of is a... Ballista?" Eris deadpanned. "Truely? What did you shoot out of it?"

"Black arrows, each as long as an elf, made to pierce the scales of dragons- or anything else." Bard deadpanned. _Please don't ask about the story please don't ask about the story please don't-_

"There's probably a story behind that, isn't there."

 _Valar damn it!_ "Yes." Bard reluctantly admitted.

"So... Any dragons left?"

Bard's jaw dropped. She wasn't going to ask about the story? He rallied quickly. "Yes... There is one I know of."

She sighed, and when she turned around, Eris looked dejected. "Fine... /Stuck on a planet of primitives./" She muttered.

Bard didn't understand whatever she just said, but it didn't sound positive. "Smaug the terrible sleeps within the Lonely Mountain."

Eris stared at him before tapping a pattern on Oculus's horn as she leaned against the beast. "Bard, you know that I have no clue where I actually am. Your landmarks and places of importance are unknown to me. So when you mention 'the Lonely Mountain', I have no clue what you are speaking of."

"Smaug lives within that mountain." Bard pointed at the looming mountain, seen through a gap between two buildings.

Eris looked at the mountain looming over the town. "... Interesting. What happened to that town?" She pointed at the ruins of Dale.

"Smaug happened." Bard said sadly. "The King under the mountain, Thrór, had amassed a hoard of gold so vast that the richest of the rich came to see it, and dream of one day owning such wealth. The great wyrm Smaug heard of the hoard, and came down from the north to take it for his own. Dale had their own Wind-Lance, but Smaug had beaten such weapons before. Gidion, the Lord of Dale, spent all but one black arrow fruitlessly upon his hide, and so Dale burned for three days."

Eris was now looking at the Lance. "... Huh."

"The survivors of Dale fled to Laketown when Smaug attacked, two hundred years ago, and since then nothing has grown upon on the burned land." This story was known to all in Laketown, and he was now reciting it in reflex. "Tens of thousands of dwarves fled the mountain, and Smaug could be heard gloating for days."

"Truely, nothing would grow?" She sounded interested now.

"The soil was turned to glass." Bard could not speak louder, for fear others would hear. "... There is also a prophecy-"

Eris whirled around, and grabbed him by the shoulders. "No! Stop!"

Bard could not believe her strength. "What? What?!" She had lifted him clear off the ground, and her fingers were digging into his flesh.

"Do not talk to me of prophecy, or fate, or destiny!" She hissed. "I want no part in any predefined narrative for the amusement of anyone else!" She abruptly placed him back on the ground, and turned back to look at the Wind-Lance. "Would you say that blue skin is a little... Noticeable?"

Bard was nonplussed. "Um... Yes?"

"Great." Eris removed her helmet, now with a face that would not be out of place in Laketown- save the oddly colored eyes. Emerald and almost glowing purple really stood out... Although the shoulder-length black hair made her more unremarkable. "I think this would fit in with the people here. What do you think?"

"..." Bard had no responses to that.

"Good." She began sashaying along the dock, her Silence trailing behind her in the shadows. "Now... Your payment." A tiny bag flew into Bard's face. "Plant each seed in soil, and keep them inside. Near the fire, and with soil constantly wet. It will grow quickly, and bloom within a week. Brush the same-colored flowers with a small amount of hair to make them sprout berries. DO NOT EAT ANY BERRIES OF MIXED COLORS. For every cluster of four there will be a seed in one- plant them if you wish. The illness flowers will change color depending on which pills are needed for which illness, but do not eat their seeds unless you wish for a most painful death. Goodbye." With a single graceful movement, she mounted Oculus, and together dashed towards the tower. Guards, sleepy in the early morning, yelped as the large black creature leapt onto the building, and scurried up the side in a single, serpentine movement. A few moments were spent perching at the top, before the creature slithered back down and vanished into a crack between two houses.

"What an odd woman..." Bard muttered as he looked at the small, cinched leather pouch. It had the promised seeds in it- he could feel their odd forms beneath his fingers, but no stitches upon it.

Something so small, and yet, it made him almost drop the pouch. It felt wrong, to have a leather pouch with no real signs of make, but he had seen more odd things in his life.

Not many more odd than the lady Eris or her mount though.

* * *

 **End Ch 4**

* * *

Hey guys... I love reviews. Knowing that, I have to be careful . Stories can spiral out of control until all is lost, and yet- I will be updating as soon as I can.


	5. Chapter 5 - The Hoard

(A/N- start)

Thanks for the reviews! I am glad y'all like the story, and I am a little surprised that no-one recognized Eris's name from fiction. I guess I need to hint it harder.

Those who want to get slapped in the face with a fish, here's the link number.

youtube Jfub07Q2VuU

Everyone else, don't watch it.

I plan on updating this once a week- and, with two or three chapters left, this will end soon.

I don't own The Hobbit or Prototype. If I did, I would be so damn rich...

Enjoy!

(A/N- end)

* * *

 **Ch 5 The Hoard**

* * *

Eris-John and Oculus-John wasted no time heading toward the mountain. The façade was promising- massive, and carved right into the mountain in such a way that looked just a off, somehow.

"The proportions are wrong." He muttered with his Eris body. "Elves are a thing, as are Dwarves, and this was a dwarven fortress... No wonder it died horribly. My dwarf fortresses always died horribly until Dwarf Fortress 3: The Industrial Fail came out."

The massive hole was promising- although he was greatly impressed by the width of the walls. Eighteen feet of dense granite. An emerged from the side of John's Oculus body, and shifted through the spectrum to see look at the rock- and saw that it was covered in iron. Electrophoretic sensors in John's BlackLight parts also felt the electriclly-twisting effect of such a huge slightly magnetic mass, and he grinned with both bodies.

These dwarves were not such primitives.

Great halls made of carved stone, with high, lofty ceilings were not what he expected, but neither was it awe-worthy.

Still, it was novel. John slid his Eris body of Oculus, and walked into the halls of the dwarven kingdom.

* * *

Bard and his family were going through hell.

The medicine worked. Well, it made Astrid feel better, and got Sigrid to stop coughing.

Then they all felt it. A certain tightness in the bowels began, and then they all began making frequent trips to the toilet. What came out would bump up the rating of this story, so the it will not be included.

Bard stopped mid-groan as he sat on the bench outside their toilet area. "Wait, what was that?"

A series of long groans came from within the toilet, and then a Thom, drawn out slithering splash was heard, promptly followed by a scream. "By the Valar it just keeps going! Why is it stringy?!"

Yeah... We're done here.

* * *

Smaug the great and terrible, greatest of calamities, was bored. He was bored out of his goard, but not his hoard, and would happily sleep away the years until another thief came. They were so entertaining, willing to beg and plead for their lives... Sometimes with such nice manners that he almost didn't eat them- but never nice enough manners.

Then he felt something. The gentle tingle on his tail of something alive approaching began, and as he opened a lazy eye he saw gold cascade away from his eyelid in a shower of sparkles.

The tinkle of metal was like music to dragons. They could feel, even as hatchlings, the life force of living creatures from a great distance. Everything had two notes- one, his mother said as she watches his brothers and sisters play, was the sparkling fēa, and the other the living and tasty hröa.

Gold kept the feel of any other hröa and fēa away, and, with its melodious chiming, was a glorious thing to sleep under.

But now something... No, two things, were coming into his kingdom. He felt it's hröa slightly, but no fēa to speak of- and Smaug was, for the first time in more than a decade, puzzled. All life had these two- unless it had just died, and then the fēa vanished while the hröa slowly waisted away.

He decided to investigate.

Smaug stretched, and like one of the great leviathans of old, began swimming through his hoard. He did not flail his limbs like a hatchling, but rather curled and twisted his way through the great hoard, pushing great waves of gold aside as he moved.

It was good to be the king.

* * *

The city was huge- and promising. John drove both his bodies to the first thing that caught his eye... Well, the titanic sonic pulse that he emitted highlighted it to his sonar, and he had latched onto the idea that this place might be more promising than the... Frankly squalid Laketown.

And it was! Room and rooms of industrial-sized crucibles filled with various ingots, ready to be smelted, conveyor belts by the mile and massive pits with a multitude of different mechanical systems.

The Eris body plucked at one of the chains, and John used several hairs from Oculus to map out the system. A complex series of gears, chains, and levers were set up in such a way that, from what he could see, people could be lowered into the pit on harnesses near the walls.

Another ping picked up something else interesting, and a few minutes later John was standing in an arms production facility.

Each ping showed a new, more interesting area of infrastructure. From mushroom farms (that had, unfortunately gone dry with a lack of use, but with a thick layer of dark clay on the floor) to apartments (which seemed very standardized), and storerooms of all types and shapes, John explored the top industrial level of the city.

Then he came upon a wide corridor, which, according to his pulse, curved and dropped gently into the mountain. Following it down wasn't that difficult, considering this thing was wide enough for a cruiser to fit down it, but as he walked down two things became more prevalent.

The first thing was that there were more corpses. Hundreds if not thousands of skeletons, some distressingly small, littered the path. Scorched armor, some in piles, other scattered in dunes of ash, were all over the place. Eris picked up one of the helmets, and resonated a pulse into it.

It was interesting- layered metals in multiple unrecognized alloys. Eris tossed the helmet to Oculus, who snagged it out of the air like a treat.

John navigated his bodies all the way down as the helmet was being dissolved, absently recording the new atomic shapes as he approached the bottom- and stopped as he heard something big moving through gold coins. "Gold coins? The fuck?"

Miles of treasure. Literal miles of gold and silver coins- his pulse dissipated into the immense, sloped cavernous hall before it could find the end. It did pick up hundreds of different types of treasure, and, as Eris picked up one of the ornately-shaped pieces of jewelry, his electrophoretic senses finally picked up a large creature.

"Well... Little thief..." Rumbled through the sea of treasure. "How do you like my hoard?"

Then the dragon breached.

* * *

Smaug pulled himself out of the gold as he watched the biped and... Odd thing. They were silent- an understandable reaction to his presence.

Neither had any smell though, and the female biped was looking around at the magnificence of his hoard.

"It's impressive... But also I would call it impossible." She tossed the tiara she had been examining to the side. "Back when I was mortal, there was less gold in the world than in this one room. Even if it's only a foot thick, it's still too much." She looked at him, did something to her helmet, and a female human without hair, but with blue skin and tiny horn-things revealed her face.

"Mmmmortal, you say?" Smaug sniffed her again. The lack of smell was so vexing! "I cannot smell you at all!" He began to circle her, and her pet- which he noticed was taking great care not to step too far into the gold, as it appeared to skin. "Who are you? And where are you from, may I ask."

"I am an Evolved." The woman and creature dissolved into tendrils, merged into a single entity, and reformed into a large, bipedal creature- bigger than a troll, with a smooth black faceplate, beetle like armor, and many, many holes on it's body, each one as big as the original biped's arm. "And my name, well, it was John- and still is when I am a singular being... But as multiple, I like to have multiple names- to differentiate the perspectives." Tendrils of red and black flickered over the figure for a moment, before the creature's head and chest slid back to reveal a female human with oddly flowing hair. "If I'm female, I use the name 'Eris' for this body."

That was sufficiently unsettling to unnerve even a dragon- but not for long. "That is but one answer."

She pouted, and crossed her arms over her black-material covered chest while reclining in the red and pulsating heart of the black thing- then smiled. "I am from farther away then you, or any creature on this world probably knows."

Smaug tapped a claw on a stone staircase that was rising from the hoard. It cracked under the pressure. "Oh? Try me..." He hissed.

"What do you know of /multidimensional/ math? I am willing to tell you where I am from, but it's a really complicated explication of how to get there."

He blinked. "You are willing to tell me?"

"Yes. Mostly because I don't think you could use the information. We are so far away from there that even if I managed to reproduce the same way I got here, I don't even know if I could get back." She grinned widely, and her predatory expression managed to make her look that much more odd. "But enough about me! Let's talk about you- Smaug the terrible, destroyer of dwarves, and wrecker of expensive shit."

"I do not destroy that which is valuable!" Smaug insisted. "My hoard is great, and all covet my wealth."

"No." She said bluntly, and picked up a coin. "This is a coin. Do you know what value it has?"

"It was valued by the dwarven King, and now is valued as part of my hoard!" Smaug bellowed.

"That's not what I meant." She dropped the coin back on the ocean of precious metals. "It, as all currency, has no value but that which we have assigned it. Basic concept of /Economic/ theory."

Smaug fixated on the creature. "Explain this theory to me."

"Okay..." Eris looked around for a moment, before picking up a shining sword that was fairly close, passing to her human body from the larger armor. "This sword has a function- it can be used to hurt others. In war, this makes it valuable- but many are made as well, and it is used. That use is paid for, by a king or rich merchant, until the fighting or fighter stops." She tossed it lazily into the air, and caught it by balancing the blade's tip on her fingertip. "Then it is hung up by the fireplace, a memory of more exciting times... Or it is beaten into another tool, where it has value again. But, in and of itself- money is worthless."

"What?" Smaug growled.

"It is a medium of exchange." She threw the sword at one of the many pillars, and it sank into the stone up to the hilt with a thunderous crack. "Without things to buy and sell, it worthless. The only value it has is what others agree it has. So, with that said- Smaug, what do you use all this gold and treasure for?"

"..." He sighed. "I sleep in it." Smaug, the most terrible of calamities slipped back under the gold to demonstrate, shaking in such a way that he would be able to dig deep into the treasure in his spot. "And it keeps the outside world from disturbing me."

Eris bit her lip as she considered that answer. "In that case, how much do you need?"

* * *

 **End ch 5**

* * *

Hey everyone, I really hope y'all enjoyed that!

If you want to get a written letter from John, please send all letters to John BlackLight, Creepy Manor [manner], 2 Uncanny rd., Uncanny Valley.

Please include a return address so I can write back.

Also, I like reviews, and all of you are wonderful readers!

Oh, and a little Omake for those who wanted to see Smaug die horribly:

* * *

 **Omake: Enough about me, let's kill you!**

* * *

He blinked. "You are willing to tell me?"

"Yes... Mostly because I don't care. We are so far away from there that even if I managed to reproduce the same way I got here, I don't even know if I could get back. Still that shouldn't be a concern of yours." She grinned widely, and her predatory expression managed to make her look that much more odd. "But enough about me! Let's kill you!"

In the time it took Smaug to blink, she had sealed back into the armor, and jumped, slamming a punch right into the side of his head with a massive armored fist.

His jaw didn't break, but creaked under the impact, and he saw stars.

Smaug tried to retaliate, and, while he was stoking the fires in his belly, slapped at the surprisingly heavy John- or Eris, or whatever it was calling itself. He shook his head, chest glowing, and turned to face the creature. "You darhrkkk!"

The creature had shifted in midair, landing on its legs, and turned its fists into massive claws. Then, like some large cat, it jumped straight at Smaug's neck, and, although the claws bounced off the draconic hide, the impact still felt like a tree had fallen on the dragon's throat.

As Smaug coughed, he tried to swat the annoying creature again- but this time, when his hand touched it, the creature stuck to it like something made of tree sap.

It wrapped around the fingers of his right wing-hand, and, forming an odd series of shapes, suddenly wrenched his fingers all in the wrong direction.

They snapped like twigs.

Enraged and in great pain, Smaug unleashed his flame breath- only to have the creature scuttle up his arm in a nauseating undulation, and, manifesting two blades, cut a hole to take shelter under the weaker membrane of his wing until he ran out of breath. As he inhaled, the creature began crawling again, this time over his back, then up his neck and, as Smaug scrabbled with his good claws to get the thing off, it slithered into his nose and down his throat.

He began choking, trying to surge his flame breath once more, but as he felt it cut its way in, he knew he would not be able stop it.

Once he finished that thought, there was no Smaug anymore.

John flexed the wings of his new body, and kept infecting the tissues. Learning everything he could from he new body would take time, but it would be worth it.

Might be a good idea to fix the hole in his chest's scale armor though. Now... To look through Smaug's memories to figure out why these dragons liked gold.

Oh. That makes sense now.


	6. Chapter 6- The Concept

(A/N- start)

Thanks for the reviews! I am glad y'all like the story.

I plan on updating this once a week- and, with two or three chapters left, this will end soon.

I don't own The Hobbit or Prototype. If I did, I would be so damn rich...

Enjoy!

(A/N- end)

* * *

 **Ch 6- The Concept**

* * *

"How much do I need?!" Roared Smaug, his voice resonating throughout the cavernous halls of the kingdom under the mountain. "All of it! Every last coin and jewel is mine!"

"Sure, alright." Eris placated the dragon, large fingers motioning for him to relax. "But if you can think of a smaller amount to use, I know ways to make wealth like this grow- and make your name not just synonymous with distraction, but also creation and hope for those all over this world."

"Explain..." Rumbled Smaug.

"Great Smaug, have you ever heard about the idea of 'Finance'? Or the concept of 'lending'?"

"No." It is frankly impressive to hear a dragon deadpan, and I cannot do it justice.

"Okay." Eris sat down on the treasure. "The concept of lending is simple- you give a person some gold, but-" she said quickly, seeing Smaug begin to get frustrated. "- you make an agreement that, in exchange for the gold, they pay you more than the total value of the gold over a period of time. Does that make sense?"

"... Yes..." Smaug picked up a large, ornate vase delicately with a claw. It was made of gold, studded with jems- and filled with gold coins and other treasure. "I give them this much, and they pay me more?"

"Usually with monthly payments, yes. And, if they want to have longer to pay, you make sure they pay more overall. But that's not the only idea that you may like." She began ticking off on her fingers. "There's the concept of Investment- that is, fronting some money so that a business can start up, and they pay you a set amount every month as a percentage of their proceeds. Then there's financing- where you help someone pay for something in exchange for them to pay you back more over time. There's also land investment, where you buy land, and let others live on it or use it for a small fee every month... Tolling, where you make sure that others cannot pass through your land unless they pay, is also rather lucrative. All of these require money to do though- but I can think of several schemes that can make you money fairly quickly."

"Really?" Smaug looked somewhat amused, and laid his head down on his crossed wings. "Do tell."

"For starters, it involves Laketown... Although, before we begin any plans, we might want to wait a little while before we go there. Maybe a week or two."

"We will wait... If I like your plan."

"Maybe three weeks..."

"And why such a long delay?" Smaug snorted. "If I can get mortals to increase my hoard, and have them cave to my whims- why wait?"

"I gave them berries that would make them more healthy."

There was a delay.

"And?" Smaug insisted.

"And they should be experiencing the worst shitting of their lives to date now. The smell will be horrendous."

Smaug looked at the exit to the deep cavern. "I will wait the weeks. Now, explain your plan- I wish to understand all of it."

* * *

It took three days before the horrible shitting stopped for Bard and his family. On the first day, Bard had planted the seeds as instructed (his shitting hadn't been too bad), and by day five the plants were growing well. Quickly too.

By day eight Bain had harvested the berries, and Astrid, who was recovering well, had written down the information about the berries, as best as Bard had remembered it.

Day nine, the berries had run three crops each, and on day ten, Astrid, Sigrid, and Tilda went into the city, and began trying to find the others who were sick.

They gave a dozen berries to different people, each one paying a single silver coin for the promise of health, acknowledging the risks (even the diarrhea) for a chance to heal and save some of their family.

The tenth and eleventh days were much the same, with the set of three using more and more berries to help stop sickness where they could.

Things went badly on the fifteenth day. You could say... It went to shit.

* * *

The master of Laketown was, well the master of Laketown. He was rich, powerful, opulent, corpulent and, right now, shitting nearly uncontrollably. Thankfully he had a toilet- although he dreaded having to deal with the odd slithering...

"Master?" Alfrid Lickspittle slithered his way in, and momentarily stared at his master before turning his back. "Master, are you well?"

"Does it look like I'm well, dolt?!" Snapped the Master, his voice tensed as he tried not to put the amount of strain he was undergoing into his voice. "That damned witch..."

"Excuse me sire?"

"Bard's whore and his spawn!" Spat the man as his intestines rebelled again. "They have been giving these... Berries to people! Some said they got better, but to go through this!" He groaned. "Damn that witch!"

"Sire, shall I call the guards?" Alfrid stated from his position within the room but as far away from the toilet as possible- with a few scraps of cloth stuffed into his nose just in case.

The master grabbed one of the handkerchiefs and did something unmentionable to it, then threw it down into the hole. "Yes. Yes! Call the guards, and have them take the witch into custody."

The master fastened his trousers as he stood. "I will sentence them to face the dragon." His intestines made an unpleasant noise. "But not now. Just... Send the guards to detain them."

Alfrid left the room as fast as his legs could carry him.

* * *

Bard had a fairly long career as a guard. While the previous master had been alive, he had been one of many in the archer's guard, and thanks to his family's training, had risen through the ranks to become a captain within a year.

Then one of the many sicknesses came, and of course, his family- descendants of Gidion, master of Dale- had begun to die off. Some of the sicknesses, some of them in accidents, others in 'accidents', until only his family was left.

The old master had been taken by the illness as well, and his son, the current master, returned to take over from his father's place. His son was a different person, and was petty, small-minded, paranoid, vindictive, and greedy. The tolls to leave and enter the village were new, and the new master had quickly released a great deal of archers from his service.

Bard had needed to find a new job, and spent a great deal of his savings to buy his boat from the elves (although most of it went to taxes).

Now, though, he thought as he spent a bit of the new coin to bring in barrels- this time, full of fish- into the city, things were beginning to turn around. People looked less tired- hells, he felt less tired since those three days! Astrid was doing well, her cough and lethargy gone completely, and his children were all healthier then they had been in years.

He pushed the barge along the canal, and slowed it down as he came up next to the only smokehouse in the town.

Floyde the butcher and owner of said smokehouse, was sitting on the stairs watching the morning sky when he heard the gentle lap of slight waves against a boat hull.

"Good morrow to you, Floyde!" Bard called cheerfully. "How's the family?"

"My wife is better now, Bard." He turned to look at Bard, and smirked slightly. "And the sound of her recovery were na too bad either. Now, what can I do fer you on this early morn?"

"As you can see..." Bard swept his arm grandly to indicate the great store of fish. "I have a great many fish which have a need of smoking. Can you oblige me?"

Floyde smirked, and stood up, beard flapping with the movement, and immediately changed his accent. "My good sir, I can smoke anything-for a price, of course!"

Bard hefted his coin-purse, and set the pole into a lock hole with the other hand. "How much for all the fish in this boat?"

"I would say... Five silver per barrel."

Bard raised an eyebrow. "Floyde, I know how much it used to be to smoke fish whenever I could afford it. Two silver."

"That was before your wife gave me and mine berries that made us shit until we couldn't see straight..." Floyde's rebuttal had a point, but he knew the game. "Four silver, and I get to keep one of the barrels."

Bard, however, was right on him. "Two silver, and I give you two barrels for whatever you want."

"Done!" Floyde whistled, and a bulky boy came out from the door of the smokehouse. "Doyle, help Bard unload the barrels of fish. I'm going to get the better knives ready-"

It was at this point, that a guard running full-sprint, slammed into Bard's back and knocked him into the mast.

There was a moment's pause, as the guard looked at the blacksmith, and his son. "I need to arrest this man."

"Little keen, aren't ya son?" Asked Floyde redundantly.

"First week." Squeaked the guard. He hefted Bard, and was about to leave before he grabbed the man's coin purse. Then he pocketed it. Speaking even more squeakily, he tipped the helmet to Floyde and his son. "Well then..." He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but Bard and his family are being detained at the master's pleasure." He looked around wildly, and carefully stepped off the boat. "Good morning."

Floyde and Doyle watched as the guard quickly retreated.

"Father, are we going to fulfill the request?" Doyle asked (because no one makes demands of butchers unless they want to be on the menu).

Floyde looked at the boat full of fish, and sighed. "Yes. It will take a few days to smoke all of this, and there is no downside. If he doesn't return in a few days, we can keep it. If not, well, Bard has always been good for it."

* * *

When he woke up, Bard did not feel good for anything. At all. Everything was spinning, and the colors seemed washed out-

At the risk of not making the author's headache any worse, we will now switch to a different point of view.

* * *

"Who said that?"

Astrid turned to the cell next to her, and frowned. That sounded like Bard...

"No, seriously... Owowowowowow..."

She slid off the cot, and tried to stick her head out between the bars. It didn't work, and pulled back. "Bard? What are you doing here?"

"Raven? What's going on? Dear Valar my head..."

"Some guards came by and arrested me on accusations of witchcraft and s-sorcery." Astrid tried to keep the tremors out of her voice, but she couldn't for the last word. "I don't know where Bain, Sigrid, or Tilda are- they separated us and put us in the bridge-cells."

There was a rattle of keys, and the sound of a door opening.

"Well... Well... Well..." Alfrid Lickspittle sauntered into the room, flanked by two uncomfortable-looking guards. "The witch and her puppet." He gave Bard's cell a mock-sympathetic look, and then sneered. "Those berries were the last straw, after everything you have done over the years."

"Two years." Bard groaned from his cell. "I have tried to keep my family alive. Tried to help people. The fish, the herbs, that firewood... Are those the other straws?"

Alfrid seemed stumped by that response. "What?"

"I mean, all the times I brought in food or supplies and sold it to people in the guards or other people in town when I got the chance to do so?" Bard laughed, and his voice carried the note of pain. "I must be some sort of villain- after all, trying to give my family a better life is one of the worst of crimes-"

Alfrid was looking decidedly uncomfortable as Bard kept talking- and from his expression, he regretted bringing guards into the room. "Stop talking!"

"But of course, you wouldn't know anything about that... Plaguebearer."

"What?!" Snapped Alfrid.

"You heard me, Alfrid." Bard shakily stood in his cell, grasping the bars to try and keep himself upright. "I heard what happened to the last town you visited- and what happened to them afterward." He glowered, despite the horrible pain in his head and face. "And I know what happened to the healers there."

"How?!" Demanded Alfrid, who had pulled a knife out of a hidden pocket and was now brandishing it at him.

There was a pause, then Astrid began laughing. "Wait, all of that is true?"

"Where did you hear about that?!" Spat Alfrid, who was now pointing with the knife at Astrid.

"Gossip." Bard sagged against the bars. "Rumors. Hearsay. It didn't help that the healers here died soon after you became the advisor to the old Master- or when the old master died soon after."

"If you tell anyone-" Alfrid began, before he was cut off by Astrid.

"There is no one who cares left." Astrid interjected. "The midwives and healers are dead, and all healers know to stay away from here. We can't leave without paying for it, and everyone in this town has heard the rumors reguardless." She smirked as she sat on her bed.

"Silence witch!" Alfrid spat, his grimy teeth and oozing sores making every motion rather disgusting. But he did calm himself down, and put away the knife as he grinned a horrible grin. "You should be trying to persuade me to put in a good word with the master, instead of spreading lies."

The two guards looked at each other, and, having been in this profession for a while, had a rapid conversation between themselves.

 _Is he serious? Are we just chopped fish heads?_

 _Pretty much._

 _Screw this then- I'm quitting after this shift. This place isn't worth it._

 _Good idea. My wife has always wanted to see Rohan- and I heard they were always looking for guards._

 _I'm going to Minas Tirith. I heard their steward-in-waiting is a fine commander. Crazy, but good at his job._

 _Sounds good._

Anyway, back at the plot.

"Who just said that?" Moaned Bard. "Who mentioned a plot?"

Alfrid chuckled under his breath. "And now Bard's gone insane. Well, I guess the dragon will appreciate having two snacks."

"What?!" Screeched Astrid.

"Don't you know?" Alfrid smirked at her. "The penalty for witchcraft is to be executed. But, since we don't want to burn you- we have to find alternative options..."

"You BASTARD!" Roared Bard as he surged (unsteadily) to his feet, and slammed on the bars with clenched fists. "You would feed my wife to Smaug?"

Alfrid tapped his chin. "You're right. Usually the sacrifices are virgins... And you have three children." He shrugged. "Well, at least you won't be lonely when you face the dragon."

"Alfrid..." Bard breathed heavily as he stared at the pale, sickly man. "If I somehow survive... I'm going to kill you."

"You'll try." Alfrid shot back. "And you'll die screaming- just like witches and their spawn should."

* * *

 **End Ch 6**

* * *

Hope y'all liked that! I wanted to have some fun with this story, and I feel like I am.

Question time: what sort of death should Alfrid have? Be creative!

Oh, and please review! I love reading your comments!


	7. Chapter 7- Hiring Procedures

(A/N- start)

An interesting scifi story for those who want to read it, Mass Effect: Synthesis (by Jade Tatsu) tells the oddly uplifting story of what could happen if the Reapers were just a little more symbiotic than parasitic. Personally, I think this sort of story could have been a better plot, even tweaked to make sure that humanity was not the first ones to accept potential synthesis- in CANON! It would have honestly made for a more hopeful ending than the three disappointing ones we got in the game.

So, I originally planned only to have 8 chapters, but that plan has gone out the window with my upload schedule and decreased writing time per week. To compensate, I am going to keep posting every Sunday or Monday evening, and finish this story. It's completely timelined out, I just don't have enough time to write everything down at once. (My job, while somewhat monotonous, is mentally exhausting- and I am planning on applying to a better one in Febuary. Speaking of, anyone who reads this work for Unisea?)

As usual, I don't own any of this. That was the disclaimer.

Anyway, please review when you get to the bottom of the chapter- it helps inspire little things.

Enjoy!

(A/N- end)

* * *

 **Chapter 7- Hiring Procedures**

* * *

"It is an undeniable, and may I say _fundamental_ quality of man, that when faced with extinction, **every** alternative is preferable."

\- Director Church

* * *

Smaug luxuriated in the feeling of sunlight on his scales, and the gentle breeze bringing the scent of miles around to his massive nostrils as he stretched on the mountain above Erebor. It had been years since he had last left the mountain, but rather than hunger driving him, now... Now he was being chattered at by a tiny biped.

A tiny biped who was, in a very real way, incredibly dangerous- even to a being such as him.

"I would say that, with a bit of work, this mountain would be perfect for farming." And there was the biped. "Some workers would be needed of course, to initially carve out bits of the mountain to make it flat enough, and cart up the requisite dirt- but if they were living in dale that would not be such a problem."

Eris was currently sitting on Oculus, and pointing out potential sources of revenue.

She pointed down at the fairly large valley that sat right at the gate of Erebor. "In fact, the doorstep would be perfect for tearing farmland on the hills. A little bit of /gunpowder/ would make easier too.." She mused, almost talking to herself.

"What is this... _Gunpowder_?" Asked Smaug, as he folded his wings again. He had been asking for definitions a great deal since Eris had arrived.

"It's a mix of three materials that, when ground fine and lit, explode. Saltpeter, sulfur, and charcoal must be ground very fine, and mixed in the right proportions when wet seems like a simple mixture, but it took my people a very long time to figure out its utility." She answered almost absently. "You have the land for a great deal of potential minions- with some infrastructure build-up, of course."

The dragon pondered that for a moment, before his head suddenly swiveled towards the direction of Laketown. "Well well well..." He rumbled. "I see they are eager to come meet their new... What was that term you used?"

"Landlord."

"Yes..." He smirked. "That."

Smaug spread his wings, but paused in his takeoff when Eris spoke.

"You know, you might want to let me talk with them first-" she froze, then grinned with both bodies. Even Smaug thought it was unsettling, considering the unnatural way Oculus's jaw bent to smirk. "Actually, never mind. I'll be right behind you."

The Tyrant under the mountain, Smaug, jumped off the ledge he was on, and, with two flaps of his mighty wings, was airborn. He let out an exultant roar as his wings felt the wind for the first time in years, and quickly found the convoy of humans. It looked like they were bringing him a sacrifice- some humans in a wooden cage.

He sighed, and blew out a puff of flame. Well, he would need minions if he wanted to run this whole make-more-money-out-of-money thing that Eris had described to him.

Twisting his tail slightly, and feeling the spinal ridges flex, he gently went into a spiraling turn- to give the bipeds below something to admire on the way down.

* * *

There are some things in life that are definitively terrifying. Being attacked by a pack of Orcs, for example. Being swarmed by giant spiders is another. Having a dragon fly in circles around you while you and your family are being carted to serve as lunch to the massive creature- well, that breaks the scale, as it were.

"That's... Big." Bain had to swallow as he watched the dragon from within the wooden cage as it swung around them in gentle orbits. "Have you ever seen anything so big da?... Da?"

His father had passed out, and his mother was looking a mix of horrified and amazed.

"Huh." Sigrid had been watching the dragon as well. "I wonder how it stays up without any feathers on its wings?"

"However it works, that's a dragon!" Tilda was the more practical of the two, and was getting more and more concerned. "And it's getting closer!"

"No it's not. Look, it's not getting bigger." Sigrid was not as concerned- unsettled, but not concerned.

"Yes it is- compared to that tree!"

The dragon had already passed the tree, and Sigrid missed it. "No it isn't."

"Yes it is! Look!"

The dragon abruptly swing around, and landed in front of the terrified convoy.

"Men! You are upon my doorstep!" Smaug roared, smoke leaking from his nostrils as he looked over the cart. "State your purpose!"

"Oh mighty Smaug-" Alfrid began, before Smaug sniffed him, and wrinkled his snout in disgust.

With a huff, the advisor was blown away, tumbling off to the side. "I will not speak with worms who rot in their own bodies- no matter how polite they may try to be!" Smaug trumpeted. "Know this- you, all of you, live upon my land! My territory! And I will not speak to those who have no say!" Blazing eyes swept the escorts. "Who among you has some say?"

The guard-Sargent raised his hand. "I do, Smaug the terrible."

The dragon's eyes locked on him, and he involuntarily wet himself.

Smaug chuckled, and it came out like the rumbling of an earthquake. Slowly, with an air of absolute menace, his head snaked over the wagon and approached the man. A little tongue of flame licked out of one nostril, and the man twitched instinctively. "Tell me, little man, what you intend to do on my doorstep with a..." He sniffed the air again. "A family in a box."

"The Master of Laketown has decreed that, for the crime of witchcraft," the man's trembling got worse as the horns on Smaug's head flexed, "the family of Bard and Astrid would be sacrificed to you, Smaug, chiefest and greatest of calamities."

"Hmmm... In that case..." Smaug tapped the ground with a claw, cratering it, before reaching out and grabbing the box, causing screams from the family within. "They are now |mine|. And as for your 'Master'..." He blew a contemptuous puff of flame. "I will call upon him soon. After all-" Smaug grinned toothily. "Laketown has a great deal of unpaid rent- and I intend to collect..."

With that, Smaug grabbed the box in his jaws, flapped his titanic wings, and lifted off, knocking over a few of the unsettled souls who had been pulling the cart.

There was a rather long silence as the people considered the fact that they were still alive, and got their bowels under control.

"Can we leave now?" Asked a guard plaintively.

The Sargent blinked. "Yes. Yes we should." He looked at the ground, seeing almost for the first time the ditch that Alfrid had dug with his face. "And someone retrieve Lickspittle... I doubt the master wants to loose his favorite toady- and we don't want him to blame us, now do we?"

* * *

Eris was working in the treasure hoard, writing in one of the many large, empty books that she had found in the remnants of the dwarven library. Well, calling it a 'book' was a bit of a misnomer in this case- it had no title, no cover or spine... But there were enough pages to fill a book. Or several.

The spine was being manipulated and absorbed by her hair.

To be specific, Oculus had been absorbed to Eris' hair, which now flicked around the room in strands, forming eyes and 'pen' fingers when needed to write down different words the spiders knew, in order to reverse-engineer the language that these people had developed.

It was at this point that a small segment of his biomass, roughly the size of a dog, shot out of the darkness near the ceiling, and impacted the ropes of hair, embedding and being absorbed. It had been nearly shapeless, tendrils and a core surrounded by eyes and advanced ear-like structure, but enough to keep an eye on Smaug in case the main mass was needed.

It hadn't been much, but it was enough to back John-Eris up in the event that Smaug went nuts. Regardless, it was back- Eris updated the material, and released it again. This time, it's task was to get her biomass from various predefined sources.

Mostly trees.

As the odd little creature scuttled off, she sent out a pulse- and felt the anomaly that was Smaug had entered the mountain again. With barely a flick of thought, the pages were neatly assembled, and the heavy mechanisms within the dwarven book bindings were shut on the mass of pages. She tucked the spaniel-sized book under one arm, and, connecting her BlackLight strands to her armor, began swinging between the pillars like some form of demented spider made entirely of hair.

Time to scare some mortals.

* * *

Fainting is not the most dignified thing a person can do when faced with the utterly surprising or terrifying. Synonyms include, but are not limited to swooning, pass/black/conk/zonk/wonk out, keel over, and 'out like a light'.

There is also a commonly held misconception that those who pass out are of weaker stock than the others around them who did not- and, depending on the culture, may be mocked with having images of genitalia (usually male, but better artists can get creative) drawn on their face with markers. Or, if no markers are available, charcoal sticks work well enough.

Being carried by a dragon was a bit of a shock. Being gently carried in its mouth while the dragon takes off was even more of a shock. But actually flying?

Bard's entire family joined him in unconsciousness as Smaug leveled off. This, in turn, had awoken the archer-turned-boatman, who looked down, then around, before sinking back into dreamland.

* * *

Smaug gently set down the box in the middle of his hoard, next to his prime sleeping location, on a spar of stairway that stuck up out of the golden slope like a rock on a river. Once it was in place, and he had checked to see where the occupants were, he waited.

As if on cue, a black tendril dropped out of the cavernous darkness in the ceiling, and touched the box. Immediately, tendrils of pulsating black mold shot over it, then retracted.

The box fell apart, small pieces of wood falling away from each other and clattering over the humans- who began to stir.

Smaug wasn't that patient. "Attend me, creatures of the race of men!"

Predictably, the family immediately woke up, and clutched at each other like they were some sort of lifeline. The dragon found that hilarious.

However, after a minute or so, Astrid shook herself out of the daze. "Greetings, oh magnificent and terrible Smaug." She patted her children in an attempt to comfort them subtly as she stood, with Bard following soon after. "I hope that we are not intruding."

"Not at all!" Smaug proclaimed magnanimously. "Indeed, you have come at a most... Fortuitous time." He bent forward, and turned his head so that one if his great eyes could focus in them.

Bard swallowed. "Smaug the tyrannical, while I would never attempt to question your decisions or judgement, I would like to ask a question of you reguardless."

"Such nice manners- and so eloquent!" Smaug cooed at the tiny (from his perspective) biped. "You managed to do what many people have not- asked to ask a question without asking directly." He crossed his wings in front of his body, and wiggled a little to sink into the gold. "Bard sounds like the name of one like you. You may ask your question, Bard."

"What are we here for, oh magnanimous Smaug?" Bard was truly puzzled- and concerned, as his family was now at the mercy of Smaug. "Why not eat or flame us?"

"Do you see all this gold?" Smaug didn't answer the question directly. "Have you ever seen so much of it?"

Bard and his family, all who were, in effect, absolutely sober, considered the question.

"No, never." Surprisingly, Bain was the first to answer- but quailed under the dragon's gaze.

"Well, I have been... Informed," Smaug blew out a small tongue of flame as he said the word (which, coincidentally, lit one of the many braziers that the dwarves had, decades ago, filled with coal- lighting up the room). "That there are such things as... Loans?"

"Yes..." Bard had no idea where the dragon was going with this.

"And... What was that other word..." Smaug shook his head by rotating it clockwise and then counterclockwise rapidly, trying to jar loose a thought. "When you pay for the use of someone else's lair or nest?" At their confused expressions the dragon frowned. "House maybe? Ahh! I remember- it was called rent!"

The dragon laughed, and every snarling chuckle made the family flinch- even as they relaxed once his attention was not directly on them.

"Yes- rent!" Smaug grabbed a pillar, and used it to pull himself a bit higher off the gold, allowing his glittering chestplates to catch the light. "Laketown owes me rent- and I intend to collect... But for that, I need minions!"

The blazing gaze of Smaug focused on the family once more, and his next words seemed to worm inside their heads.

"So tell me, spawn of Gidion and Dale- oh, don't look so surprised. I would never forget the smell of the only man who managed to fire a quiver of those black arrows at me!- Can you read and write?"

"I can." Astrid whimpered. Whatever the dragon was doing to its voice, it was forcing her to answer- as it did to her children, who echoed her statement.

"Can you do sums?"

Even Bard could do sums- and after another round of affirmations, Smaug relaxed down off the pillar.

"Good." He purred with the rumble of a summer storm. "In that case, you all are Mine!"

"I knew you'd see it my way." Eris's statement surprised everyone, making even the dragon jump- which created a small landslide. Out of the ceilings' darkness came a waterfall of tendrils, which coalesced into the human form of Eris, black hair waving in nonexistent currents behind her as if she was underwater.

"You!" Bard stormed up to the smiling woman, and thrust a finger at her. "Did you know they would think of us as witches after sharing your berries?"

"Did they really?" Eris looked surprised, but her eyes sparkled with amusement over her clasped hands. "I am shocked! Just... Staggered even!" Abruptly, she toned down the drama. "No. I did not know that. I thought your would have realized that sharing such... Useful plants would be a risk. After all, they came from someone like me." Her hair spiraled up and behind her.

"Thank you." Astrid walked up behind Bard, and put a hand on his shoulder, calming the man. "I admit, it was foolish to try selling the berries to everyone. But I did not think they would want to be sick any longer."

Eris sighed, then clapped her hands together. "The past's the past! No reason to dwell on it too much. So- who wants to help change the way your world thinks about money?"

Smaug chuckled at the immortal's exuberance as he slid, like one of the giant sea-serpents, into the sea of gold. Living as long as he had, he understood the need to shake things up- tedium was not pleasant for too long.

* * *

 **End ch 7**

* * *

I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter! RL got in the way of updating on Monday, but, since I just started this new job, interferences in my hobbies should be expected.

Please review- and feel free to guess about how things are going to go. And yes- I know I am misspelling Gandalf. I have a joke to run off it.

Toddles!


	8. Chapter 8- Relocation

(A/N- start)

Sorry this took so long everyone- this chapter didn't want to be written. This is the fifth draft of it, and I effectively just gave an overview of what happens for part of it as it just never felt right.

Anyway, here's a disclaimer:

I don't own Prototype or Lord of the Rings. Wish I did.

Now, onto the story. Enjoy.

(A/N- end)

* * *

 **Ch 8- Relocation**

* * *

"Home is where you make it."

-some dude

* * *

Laketown was on edge. It was felt in the little glances between people, in the way that the guards stood a little straighter at their post- and that they were all carrying bows.

The master had opened the armory, and, after desperately scrambling to find a black arrow (surprisingly, finding one in the mostly-looted house that Bard had owned), had both manned and loaded the WindLance.

No one really objected- save a few close friends of the family, and the master had ignored them.

So, a week after Bard and his family had been exiled, when a man, armored in a patchwork of various ancient armory, had walked up to the walls with an escort, the guards had been a bit more alert than usual.

* * *

 _Dawn, seven days after Bard had been exiled..._

"Stand and declare your identity!"

Bard sighed behind- although it was hard to tell while he was wheezing. His helmet was a bit too big, but the rest of his armor was jury-rigged to fit- and, frankly, weighed more than he did. He had never, in his career with the guards, been too out of shape.

Now? Now he felt like he was being strangled and crushed beneath a mass of iron.

"I am the Herald." Bard intoned as smoothly as possible. "Herald for Smaug, Dragon King Under the Mountain, and I have a message for the Master of Laketown!"

The guards looked at each other warily, and urgently, in the ancient method of 'not it' decided which one of their number would leave to tell the master about this. The remaining guard visibly sagged, and yelled out to the armored figure. "Alright Herald- the master will be here in a few minutes. Now, who are you?"

"Who I am is not important..." Bard was very careful not to move, otherwise he might fall over. He needed the breather.

The guard had no reply to that, so Bard got a good ten minutes of rest before the master arrived, huffing and puffing, to the walkway atop the gate.

"You there!" Wheezed the master. "Herald of Smaug! Why should I not just kill you now?"

"As if you could- or would." Bard smirked behind his armor. "My armor is thick, and your men unskilled. But more importantly- would you risk yourself by killing me?"

"Explain yourself!" Shouted the Master.

"If I do not return with good news, Smaug will burn this village down and kill everyone within." Bard didn't need to sound upset, but he was. Despite everything that had happened, he had lived in Laketown his whole life- and now it might be destroyed. "It is on his land after all, and I have been given a message for the Master of Laketown."

"His land?!" The master was enraged now, his jowls wobbling. "I own this lake! My family has owned this on the word of the Lord of Dale since befofe Smaug arrived-"

"And now you live in Smaug's territory." Bard interrupted the man with a not-insignificant level of glee. He did not like the Master. "You have been for more than sixty years. Now he wants the remainder of the rent. As a town, you owe ten gold coins a month, retroactive since he took over Erebor."

The master made a great impression of a goldfish for a few moments before sputtering. "But that's 7440 gold pieces! I don't have that kind of money to spend..."

"Or equivilent." Bard nodded. This was the number that he had been warned about. "Smaug is willing to accept payment in both coins and livestock- if you can pay it."

"Milord... In the interests of not being burned alive by a dragon, might I suggest that we leave the town?" Alfrid had sidled up, and was now whispering in his master's ear.

"Good idea." Whispered the master.

Bard saw the byplay- although he was unable to hear it, he could guess what was being suggested. "Of course, in the event that you try to leave the city, Smaug has other servants, who can and will hunt you down to take the coinage out of your hide in some way."

The master groaned. "Very well. When and where must we have the payment?"

"By noon- on his doorstep."

Everyone on the wall looked towards the sun, and saw that it was just clearing the forest's canopy through the clouds.

"Go Alfrid."

"But sire-"

The master snapped his fingers, and Alfrid skittered away. Then he turned back to the armored figure. "And he will be waiting?"

"Yes... Oh, and there was one more thing he bade me to say."

The master made a 'go on' motion with his hand.

"Smaug, King Under the Mountain, has decreed that anyone interested in doing so may come to live in the city of Dale, provided that they pay homage and rent to him."

"That's ridiculous!" Roared the master. "Who in their right mind would choose to live in a village ruled by a dragon?!"

Bard was looking incredulous- although it would be hard to tell, considering he was wearing a full-face helmet. He tried to convey it through tone-of-voice though. "You do, oh Master of Laketown. Unless you have a secret that renders you invulnerable to rendering." He bowed. "And with my message delivered, I bid you good day."

Bard began walking away from the town, but he stopped after a few steps. "Oh, and you might want to present the last black arrow as a gift. After all, you don't want to anger the king, do you?"

He made a hasty retreat as the master sweated, and roared various orders at the guards.

* * *

While the master didn't speak of the offer, the guards did. Hundreds of lake men, women, and children heard about the dragon's offer, and while living under the despotic rule of a dragon sounded bad, at least the dragon gave them an option.

Most of them had given up hope years ago that they might earn enough money to move somewhere else- and now the opportunity had fallen right into their laps.

A great many, especially those who were descendants of the original refugees from Dale, took the opportunity.

Why? Economics

Laketown had a population two to three times what it had been able to easily support in terms of housing. The buildings had been built more on top of each other than out- a necessity, considering that the dwarven piles that were used to mount the buildings in the water had stopped being shipped in after Smaug arrived.

Of course, back when the survivors arrived, that wasn't true- they had lots of room. But the refugees never left, and so they kept building with what they had.

It meant that a great deal of people left the Laketown.

* * *

The crowd of people was huge. Thanks to the taxes that had been levied over the years, all the fees and little bits of money that were needed just to do their jobs, most people didn't have much.

But they took what they could.

Boats were carried or dragged, pots and pans were brought along- one of the blacksmiths even brought a small anvil and his apprentices carried the full suite of tools. Anything of value that was not coin was brought along- dragged, carried... The horses were dragging trains of fully loaded carts- people were pulling sledges if they could do so!

At the gate to Dale, Astrid was waiting- not in armor like her husband, but wearing a long chainmail cuirass over over one of her lighter dresses, along with some jewelry that Smaug had suggested.. She had a chair and table set up, and had a roll of unmarred vellum for marking down the people who were entering the city.

As the first villagers arrived, Astrid sat a little straighter, and moved the tiara so it sat better. She had a job to do.

"Hello, and welcome to Dale. Please state your name or profession, and be advised that, as an inhabitant, you will be required to swear loyalty to the Master of Dale." She had needed to practice this line a few times- but it was amazing how fast you could memorize something when a grouchy dragon was watching. "Any questions?"

The closest people- a family with a sledge- looked a each other, huddled up in discussion, then turned back to her. "William Thatcher and family, your ladyship. My family and I have no questions."

Astrid wrote down the name, and nodded to the man. "Pick a house, and be warned- all gold currently remaining in the city should be saved. Smaug will demand rent from Dale, as he will from Laketown."

"Ladyship-"

"Stop it Will!" Astrid snapped. "I'm your sister, so you don't need to give me airs. Find a house- get settled in. There will be a meeting in the central square tonight, and since Smaug will be there, you might want to get everything put away before that." She pointedly looked at the family lined up behind the Thatchers. "Hello, and welcome to Dale."

* * *

The relocation of people into Dale went smoothly- aided by Astrid and Bard of course.

Days were filled with a flurry of activity, turning Dale from a ruin into an, if not impressive, bristling fortress. Holes were filled, walls were re-built, the well was re-opened, and a great deal of things were re-thinged.

People were still heading down to the lake for food though- so many of them were fisherman, and they still relied on that food supply. A few families had been farmers before the fall of Dale, but they couldn't relearn the skills fast enough for the winter. Thanks to a week of industrious work, the city had several large smokehouses- all of which were working day and night to preserve enough fish for the winter- and the town, as Smaug tried and liked several types of smoked meats.

Still, people knew firsthand what happened if they didn't keep a steady supply of vegetables going to their people... It wasn't pretty. Now, normally, the elven King would supply them with food and vegetables in exchange for providing the right environment to mix and age the wine that the elven King liked so much. However, with the Master of Laketown refusing to provide them with the vegetables that were regularly provided, this little problem became a big one.

Bard, being the man-in-charge, if only because he was the first 'minion', was made aware of this looming problem, and brought the issue up the chain. He informed Smaug about the impending potential food shortage, and, when the dragon told him to 'fix the problem' (dragons ate only meat, so he couldn't see the point of plants), Bard sent his son, Bain, to the elves as a messenger.

Eris went with him as a 'guard'- or, at least, something that looked like Eris. Bard still had some trouble with that.

* * *

Thranduil, Elven King of the Woodland Realm, was busy. Specifically, as one of the few elves who had an active reproductive drive, he was enjoying himself with one of his highest-ranking Warriors. She had recently been promoted due to the fact that, of her squad, only she had managed to escape from the goblin caves north of the forest.

Too bad that she had been wounded in a manner that removed arm, and the right side of her face. She would be put to death, of course- there was a reason there were no crippled elves.

Not yet though- she could have a child, and therefore was useful- and more fun than the unenlightened.

Well, he had been having fun- up until the point that one of the couriers barged in.

"Lord Thranduil, there are a couple messengers who states that they are from Dale." The elf did not care about what he interrupted- they didn't before enlightenment.

Thranduil groaned, and rolled off his third-division commander, who covered her face with a pillow and screamed into it.

He didn't even raise his eyebrows at the repeated, muffled screams of "Vamme en-!" from the scarred elf-maid.

Instead, he turned his full attention on the courier- and for effect, left his glamour off for the time being. "A messenger from Dale. How fortuitous. I assume the dragon is dead then? Of old age perhaps?!" He was rather proud of his sarcasm-it made the elf in the doorway wince.

Thranduil, turning his mental focus towards the appropriate gateway, felt the presence of only one soul, one fēa.

"There is only one waiting at the gate, young elf." He opened his working eye- the blinded eye couldn't close. "Next time count before you intrude upon my sanctum on a morning as fine as this one."

"There are two men- one male, one female, and a creature that has..." The courier swallowed, slightly green in the face. "Many, many eyes."

That made Thraundil pause. "That's... New. Different..." He purred, reaching up to take down one of his immaculately made, curved swords from above the bed. "Show them to the Winter throne room- I will be along shortly."

A muffled "Nuuta!" Was screamed into the pillow behind him.

* * *

 **End Chapter 8**

* * *

Please review, and let me know: how do you think interaction between the Woodland realm and Smaug's Dale will go? I am truly curious.


	9. Chapter 9 - Arrival

(A/N-start)

Happy Presidents' Day to all my readers who got this day off! To everyone else and those previously mentioned, I hope you enjoy the chapter.

As usual, I don't own Prototype, or anything written by Tolkien. If I did, I would be writing full time, rather than waiting for a macro to finish working.

Enjoy the chapter!

(A/N-end)

* * *

 **Ch** **9- Arrival**

* * *

"Now... There is only one."

Gandalf tapped his pipe with a finger. Ever since he had known Beorn, the man had been very... Ominous.

"You need to reach the mountain before the last days of autum." It wasn't a question- Beorn had helped several handfuls of fleeing dwarves, and knew about the task.

That was one of the many reasons that he had led the Dwarves this way after all. That, and the fact that the werebear hated the spawn of Morgoth with a passion. "Before Durin's day falls, yes."

"You are running out of time."

"Which is why we must go through Mirkwood."

"A darkness lied upon that forest... Worst still may lay beyond..." The large man's voice grew cautious. "I would not pass through there without great need." He leaned back on the stool, and a surprise number of cracks echoed off him. "I have heard that the Orcs of Moria have an alliance with the Necromancer of Dulgol Dur... But with Mirkwood as it is, I do not know which is worse."

"We will take the elven road- that path is still safe." Galdalf stated with more certainty than may be warranted.

"It is well traveled, that is true." Beorn's gaze was riveted to Thorin. "The wood-elves of Mirkwood are not like their kin. They are less wise... And more dangerous." He looked at Gandalf, then back to Thorin. "But it matters not."

"What do you mean?" Thorin demanded.

"These lands are crawling with Orcs... But Dale is held sway by the King Under the Mountain." Beorn stood up, picked up something, and tossed it to Thorin, who caught it reflexively.

It was a perfectly hexagonal golden coin, stamped with dwarven runes.

"Where did you get this." Whispered Thorin.

"I did say the path through Mirkwood is well-traveled." Beorn gestured towards a window. "Many traders pass by here- they buy honey from me, as well as seeds for their farms. In turn, I use the coin to purchase anything I don't have or cannot make- such as metal carving knives."

"But... Smaug is still alive?" Filli's voice wavered as he put down the large mug he had been drinking from. "Why would a dragon let any treasure be used for anything outside its hoard?"

Beorn shrugged. "The minds of dragons are beyond mine. But there is also this..." He picked a small jar off a shelf, and the company could tell right away that it wasn't one he had made. Too small, and smooth- it was barely bigger around than one of his hands. "They call these 'medi-sin' seeds. They are supposed to keep for years if not planted, and if I was feeling sick, the merchant told I should swallow one. It might make me feel more sick, but after a few days I would feel much better. These ones are for fevers, and have saved two kids already."

Gandalf's eyebrows rose. "Works on men and goats?" The wizard leaned forwards. "Do you mind if I-"

"I was hoping you would look at them." The huge man dropped the closed pot into Gandalf's waiting hand. He turned back to the dwarves. "As for your quest..." The werebear nodded to Thorin. "I think it will be easier than you believe."

"Why?"Asked Bilbo.

"The King has been sending scouts out to look for dwarves." Beorn rumbled. "Many have passed by my post, and the dragon is offering a reward for any who deliver the dwarves to him alive, unspoiled, and lucid." Large fingers delicately lifted down a price of vellum, with, written with unusually regular letters, was what could only be a job posting.

Bilbo, who couldn't read Dwarvish, piped up at this point. "What does it say?"

"It states that any Dwarf that is brought to meet the king is guaranteed safe passage through King Smaug's territories." Balin swallowed- territories? "And that anyone who escorts said dwarf or dwarves, and presents them to the King alive, unharmed, and lucid, will be given a reward of three golden coins or more." The dwarf's eyebrows had ascended to his receding hairline. "It is signed 'dictated by the authority of General Bard of Dale, as decreed by King Smaug."

"I will escort you to the trading point." Beorn said with not a little finality. "There, you may find easier passage through Mirkwood- but be warned. The road is guarded by both elves and... Something else." He looked like he was trying to find the right for it. "No matter on what it is called, but know this- do no harm to anything while on the road, lest /she/ appear."

"She?" Asked Bilbo.

"I will not say her name." Beorn loomed. "I do not like dwarves. They are greedy... And blind to the lives they deem lesser than their own.

The large man went to leave the room. "Eat. Tomorrow your quest continues." He grinned. "After that, I will leave to hunt some Orcs."

The resulting silence was particularly ominous.

* * *

The next morning was distinctly odd for Bilbo and company.

Beorn had, as promised, escorted them to his little trading post at the entrance to Mirkwood on several ponies, which he had then sent back to his house.

The trading post was a shed that was filled with simple jars, with a small sign on the door. The sign stated, in common, 'I will be back on:' with another board with a date on it. For all its size, it wouldn't have been out of place in the Shire.

Gandalf had spent the night glaring at the tiny pot, and had, with Beorn's permission that morning, sent a small bird with one of the seeds in its beak to... Someone else. Neither Bilbo or the dwarves managed to get anything out of him on the why or wherefor of this act, merely that he needed to do it.

They just chalked it up to another odd thing about wizards.

The entrance to Mirkwood was clean and well kept- but with an uneasy Wizard, rest of the Company was uneasy.

The elf that had been stationed there didn't exactly react to their presence, as he (or she, as it was hard to tell the gender of an elf in full armor) didn't even blink when he saw the troop waiting there.

Soon, however, a cart came down the well-trodden road, piled high with fruit and vegetables, heading towards the entrance.

"Ho there my good man!" Shouted Gandalf. "Wherefor are you bound?"

The man slowed his horses, and they could see that he had many, many different types of vegetables and fruit on his cart. "I be bund fur 'dat town of Dale. Yurself?"

"I, and my companions, are heading to Dale as well."

Several dwarves quickly hushed Thorin.

"Might we ride along with you?"

The man looked at the dwarves, then back at his cart. "Ye may hold unto the slats- but na' sit." He said sternly. "This is freshest from mine village, to take to 'da newest market in Dale... And it needn't be spoiled from crushing!"

Gandalf tapped his pipe. "I see. May we then accompany you, and hang our heavy packs upon your cart instead?"

"The oldest of you may sit with me, if youn need then." The man seemed pleased with that. "Stories of distant lands be hard to come by on ones own- even well-told hogwash."

Gandalf chuckled as he carefully lifted himself onto the bench seat, and looped a pack over a protruding slat. "Well said my friend. Óin! Balin! Come sit with me! Let us regale this man with tales of your adventures!"

After a few minutes, the company, and amused farmer, resumed their journey into the woods.

* * *

A journey that, in another time and place, might have taken the company a day or more ended up taking only a few hours. The forest path was bright and clear, although with a distinct lack of birdsong to be heard it was slightly odd to the ears of the Hobbit, but he was light enough too that a long belt from one of the dwarves was enough, when tied right, for him to have a sling to sit in.

Of course, that meant when the elves appeared out of the forest, Bilbo was caught completely by surprise- along with everyone else except for the wizard.

* * *

The company had not been imprisoned, or attacked by the elves- rather, they, and the grocer who had been gracious enough to give them a lift, had been escorted quickly, to the hall of the king of Mirkwood himself.

"King Thranduil, it is a pleasure to see you again." Gandalf stated as he walked towards the throne, and briefly nodded to the elvenking.

"Mithrandir." Thranduil acknowledged. "It has been too long, as always. But what brings you to my forest- with a cask of dwarves in tow, and... What is that?" He nodded at Bilbo.

"That is a hobbit!" Stated the diminutive figure defiantly. "And I have a name."

"Quite." Deadpanned Thranduil. He refocused on Thorin. "And you I have heard of from captured Orcs- Thorin Oakensheild."

"It's pronounced 'Oakenshield'." Supplied Balin.

"Really?" Thranduil raised a delicate eyebrow. "I would have sworn it was Oakensheild. At any rate, I have heard of you. The Pale Orc is offering a bounty for your capture- and Smaug wishes to see you as well."

The elves around them suddenly drew weapons, and had the dangerous bits pointed at exposed parts on the dwarves.

Thranduil turned away from the company for a moment, and extracted a large piece of vellum from a slit in his throne. Then, with the air of someone who was enjoying this way more than he probably should be, the elvenking unrolled the scroll and began to speak.

"I will spare you the diplomatic language this is coated in." He sounded gleeful. "But, in effect, Smaug the Calamity, King Under the Mountain of Erebor and the surrounding plains, has stated that, in the event that a scion of the old Royal line of Dwarves may be found, that any item of jewelry or weapon within his hoard may be exchanged for the dwarf in question in reward."

The scroll was languidly rolled up.

"I happen to want something from that hoard- something that is mine and is sitting within the hoard even now." The king's smile had no warmth in it. "Therefor, I will provide an escort- and accompany you into an audience with the king himself."

There was silence for a minute, before Gandalf dropped his pipe, and swung his staff, which was now blazing with light towards the king, who didn't even flinch- although the glamour on the left side of his face evaporated, showing the scarred flesh beneath.

"Who are you?!" Snapped the wizard. "The Thranduil I knew would never side with a dragon in any matter!"

"Before a month ago I had never been thrown around my own throne room by a witch and her pet!" The elf's single working eye was filled with annoyance. "Now stop wasting your power Mithrandir- we can both feel it. I am no darker than I was when you met me."

Gandalf doused the light, and sagged, looking as ancient and weary as the beard implied. "So... You are just going to let the dragon kill us all?"

The elvenking sighed. "Mithrandir, I think you are missing a major piece of news here. I do not wish to see you dead. The dwarves perhaps, as they are a generally uncouth and disgusting people, but even that I expect no to see." He clapped a hand on the wizard's shoulder. "Be strong my old friend- things have changed around the Lonely Mountain."

* * *

Dale was a bustling city these days.

It had been a month and a half since the citizens of Laketown had relocated, and in that time they had changed the appearance of the city immensely. Though Bilbo didn't know that specifically, he had heard, from the Dwarves, that Dale had been a forsaken ruin.

It obviously wasn't.

The streets were clean, the overgrowth had been pruned, and everywhere there were plants of all colors and shapes. Many of these were fruiting despite the chill, and there was the sounds of children playing even as the delegation of elves marched into town.

In the central square, next to a fountain, there was a raised platform where a woman wearing fine chain mail over a dress addressed a crowd of men, women, and children on the use of numbers.

"Remember, every time we reach another 'ten', we count up on the next number in the sequence." She erased a few things with a damp cloth off the massive piece of slate erected behind her stage, and began writing on it with a piece of some small, white stone. "Zero -which means 'no count'-, One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine- then a one and a zero for ten. Two and zero for twenty or two tens, on and on until... When?"

One of the members of her audience, a small boy with messy hair, raised a hand. "We pass-ed nine tens, up to ten tens?"

The teacher smiled and nodded. "Yes, but it can go higher. You can count higher than all the stars and all the people and ants and creatures and grains of sand everywhere in all creation just by adding more 'zeroes' onto the end of a number." She drew a symbol that looked like a sideways 'eight' symbol. "This is 'infinity'. Imagine as big a number as you can, and this is always larger. You cannot reach it, because it is always bigger than any other infinity."

A member of her audience actually passed out after hearing that- and several members of the Company had their minds reeling just from that sentence.

One of the elves, walked up to the stage, and approached the teacher.

"I need to talk with this elf, but can someone please awaken Lief there?" She leaned over, whispered with the elf for a minute or so, then turned to address one of the children in the front row. "Tilda, will you please get your father? He should be in the storeroom. Take the nearest Silence. Tell him the elven delegation is here."

A large group of young children stood up, stepping off what to Bilbo looked like a pile of furs, that, upon being released from the clutches of the toddlers and small children, suddenly spouted eyes.

Dozens of eyes.

"Valar preserve us..." Breathed Gandalf. "That's not a creature I have ever seen before..."

The creature stretched, six feline legs extending out as it rolled over, a long, sinuous body unfurling as it stood up. It's face was hairless, and distinctly unnaturally shaped, with six large horns revealing themselves as its hair shivered in a strange ripple, smoothing out until it looked as a leek as a fast hunting dog. Moving carefully, eyes along its limbs and flanks opening and closing o keep an eye on the children around it, even as it slithered through the crowd smoothly to lower its head in front of Tilda.

For her part, the girl never blinked, but hopped onto the seat formed by its odd horns without pause.

Then it _moved_ , going from perfectly still to a ridiculous speed between two buildings. With barely a sound other than Tilda's "Whee!" of joy as it sped out of sight, leaving the elven contingent gaping in shock.

"What was that?!" Exclaimed Bilbo, unable to take the weirdness any longer.

Surprisingly, Thranduil answered him. "A Silence- one of many. They can look like trees, and you may see some planted around the city... But other than that? All is know is that they serve Her."

The company could hear the capital 'H'.

"If the king allows, we will continue with the lesson?" Asked the teacher onstage.

The elvenking nodded.

"Thank you, your highness." She turned back to the assembled crowd. "Next, is 'addition'. This is where we take two or more numbers, and put them together to make a larger number."

The lecture continued for a few more minutes, covering addition, subtraction, and multiplication- a concept that had Bilbo's head spinning, as it was introduced as 'addition but faster'- before the teacher stopped talking.

He looked up, and saw, sitting on one of the rooftops, a Silence with a black-plate-armored knight sitting on it. Dishearteningly, every single rooftop around them also had a Silence on it as well- watching and waiting.

Two other Silences shot into the square, one carrying Tilda, who was grinning and red-faced, presumably from the speed, while. The other was carrying a man in full armor, seemingly retrofitted from dwarven to human scale.

"Be told," stated the armored human, "that King Smaug has been alerted of your presence, and has arranged for an audience upon his doorstep. Please mount on a Silence if you haven't a steed upon which to ride."

There was a blur of black, and suddenly there were Silences everywhere, each one presenting a seat to every single member of the Elven contingent save King Thranduil, who was seated upon his magnificent fifteen-point buck.

"May we refuse to ride?" Gandalf seemed unsettled. "I don't wish to ride to meet a king upon steeds he has provided that I have never seen."

"No." That proclamation echoed from the black-armored knight on the rooftop as her (for her voice sounded distinctly female) steed leapt, landing in a clear place on the square without even a whisper, all of its eyes focusing on different members of the contingent. "Smaug despises to be kept waiting if expediency is an option- but don't be afraid. My Silences are friendly, and only violent if provoked."

Bilbo jumped as he was gently nudged from behind, and whirled around, only to come face-to-face with one of the creatures.

It gave him recognizable puppy-dog eyes as it looked up at the hobbit, even as it's neck was on the ground from it's attempt to look cute.

Said hobbit rolled his eyes, sighed, and scratched under the jaw of what was obviously a large meat-eater... Which purred like an earthquakes as the eyes on its head closed, obviously enjoying the feeling.

Tilda dismounted her steed even as the children rushed the Silence, pouncing on it and cuddling every part of it. The Silence, to its credit, slowly laid down, to let itself get pet and cuddled by the young multitude.

* * *

As they rode at a gallop (or gentle lope, depending on the steed), Bilbo was surprised by the smooth ride, and was about to comment on it before the female knight spoke.

"Elvenking, how's your hunting been?"

Said king bristled, even as she laughed, and her steed shot ahead, speeding up to the point where it was practically flying over the grass..

Bilbo decided not to comment.

* * *

Smaug's doorstep was... Not what any of them expected.

There was a wide pressed-dirt path leading from Dale to Erebor, but on either sides of it were farms. Small houses, timber and temporary, edged the massive fields, most of them covered in clover. On the fields of clover, herds of various animals grazed- cows, sheep, small herds of horses, and goats. Goats outnumbered pretty much everything else.

The hills themselves had been flattened like stairs, allowing for more and more farmland to be laid out around them, even as the path moved over hills and around craigs. The pressed dirt path soon gave way to an odd, blackened material, which the elvenking gracefully retrieved a shard of before handing to Gandalf, who was glaring even more after examining the piece.

A quarter-mile from the door, the ground became a single, continuous slab of the material... And upon that slab, with several attendants, and sitting on a plated stack of shields that sprawled half-in and half-out of Erebor itself, lay Smaug.

He was gesturing with a claw when needed, and, using the other, drawing various symbols on a large expanse of fine wet sand on his right as his attendants brought various matters to his attention.

As they approached, the delegation, and company, began to feel cowed. Smaug was huge. That statement didn't even really do it justice- he was titanic. A single claw was longer than a man, and the scales were thick and broad as the shields he laid upon. At the moment, his attention was focused on what one of the attendants was telling and showing him.

"The third expedition returned a few hours ago, milord." The attendant didn't squeak at all- an impressive feat, but somewhat overshadowed by the fact that he looked completely at ease.

"Already?" Rumbled Smaug. His free claw tapped on a thick shield, piercing it causally. "It has only been a day at most. What did they find?"

"More skeletons, of course, but also a large area filled with ingots of various metals- before the cave-in." The attendant held up a scroll, and Smaug leaned down to scrutinize it, his massive eye twitching as he looked over it. "We expect that one-half of the seventeenth sub-level is buried or blocked off- which matches what we have seen from the fifteenth and sixteenth sub-levels."

"Any news from the fourth and fifth teams?" Smaug deftly began pressing his claw into the sand at specific angles, forming letters in the large area with surprising speed.

"I took the liberty of using the third team as runners, and they found that sublevels eighteen and nineteen don't have any continuation of the collapse."

Smaug nodded, and focused on the attendant, who's knees wavered for a moment. "Good work. I expect a progress report tomorrow from the other teams- use the third team as runners to relay messages. My domain must be mapped."

"Very good milord." The attendant bowed, and retreated.

The armored man rode ahead a bit of the delegation, and, after dismounting his steed, bowed to the dragon. "My lord, the elven delegation and some dwarves have arrived."

The grin of a dragon unsettles most people in the same way that seeing a laughing snake or giggling crocodile does. It just looks wrong to a mammal. "Indeed?" The burning gaze swept over the assembly, coming to rest on a few individuals before moving on- mainly Thorin, the elvenking, Gandalf, and surprisingly Bilbo. The huge reptilian face focused upon the knight, and he nodded at the man. "Well done Bard. Bring them forward- they should have an audience **now**."

* * *

 **Ch 9 end**

* * *

I hope that none of you are disappointed by the lack of bloodshed in this chapter. I know that violence isn't an answer, but is a question: and the answer is 'yes'.

Anyway, please review. I love to read where you guys think things are going to go for this story, and I only plan for another couple chapters.

Oh, and if anyone knows how to get in contact with Troy Hurtubise, the inventor and creator of the Grizzy powered armor suit, I would appreciate if if you could PM me.

Take it easy!


	10. Chapter 10 - Groundwork

(A/N- start)

Hey everyone! Hope you had a fun weekend, full of anticipation! Now, it's time for the climactic moment: negotiations!

Or setting groundwork- which is where I got the chapter name from.

I don't own Prototype, Mass Effect, or anything written by Tolkein or his kin. If I did, I would be writing full time.

Hm... Maybe I should start a page.

Disclaimer still applies though.

Enjoy!

(A/N- end)

* * *

"Two people in a room can do more than a hundred."- Black Panther

"Unless you are trying to move a piano."- his father

"Why am I even here? And how did I get here!?"- Perfect Cell

There were no survivors.

* * *

 **Ch 10- Groundwork**

* * *

Bilbo stood very still as Smaug leaned forward, carefully looking at them with a single large eye.

Gandalf was observed for a moment before the dragon nodded, once, to the old man, and turned his piercing gaze upon the elvenking.

Thranduil didn't flinch- rather, he slid down slowly off the buck, and met the burning gaze resolutely... Even as his hand reached for the sword at his belt.

"No need for that, Elvenking." Chuckled Smaug. "I will reward you the items you told my messenger of. Bard!"

"Yes, my lord?" The armored man tilted his head forward, and clenched a gauntleted hand over his heart.

"Summon your son- I need him to lead an escort into my hoard."

"It will be done." Bard snapped his fingers twice, and whistled a short patten. A small creature, roughly the size of an apple, zipped out of Erebor and landed on the man's outstretched hand. It resembled an odd little bird, one that had completely black feathers. After a quick whisper to the bird, it jumped into the air, and accelerated toward Dale at an insane rate.

There was a thunderclap, then it vanished from Bilbo's sight.

The massive head swung back towards the group. "Now... Elves, you may step back."

The elven contingent, almost as one, stepped away from the group- to the glares of their king, it would seem.

The head of the dragon king towered over them, as an eye as large as Bilbo's torso flicked from person to person.

"Now I have thirteen dwarves upon my doorstep. How... Fortuitous." Purred Smaug, tail swishing behind him. "Just when I need dwarves, they appear!" The burning gaze focused into a lance towards Bilbo- whose hand was inching towards his pocket. "And you! Small one that is not an elf, dwarf, or man... I do not remember smelling your kind before..."

The dwarves all took a step back from the hobbit.

"Who are you- and where do you come from, may I ask?"

"I come from under the hill..." Bilbo started, having trouble breathing as he felt that the attention of the dragon was focusing more and more on him.

"Underhill?" Prompted the dragon.

"And under hills and over hills my path has lead." Bilbo was gaining courage as Smaug, who appeared to be enjoying the banter. "And-and, through the air, I am he who walks unseen!"

"Impresssive..." Rumbled Smaug as a claw absently scratched a symbol in the sand. "Do go on."

"I am luck-wearer, riddle maker and chosen for the lucky number." Bilbo pressed on. "Evader of goblins and rider of Eagles!"

"Lovely titles indeed- but you have not said who you are." Stated Smaug.

"Never tell a dragon your name!" Gandalf snapped to Bilbo. "Names have power, and you shouldn't give yours without cause- especially to a dragon!"

"You wound me Olórin, child of Law and Starlight." Smaug smirked, then sneered. "I could feel your Fëa from a day's flight off, just as I can feel Marion, Curumo, Aiendil, and the bearers of the three elf-stars..." Almost in an aside to Bilbo, Smaug stage-whispered. "Maiar always choose to keep their name from others, yet knowing the names of all those around them." The glowing orange orbs narrowed. "As hatchlings we were taught how never to trust a Maiar- and I would bid you be silent."

Gandalf opened his mouth again, and the black knight was there, gauntleted fingers holding a black short-spear less than an inch from his eye.

"I wouldn't speak, Gandelf." The black knight commented idly.

"Eris, you shouldn't harm him." Admonished Bard. "And his name is Gandalf."

"Someone has to be more intimidating than you, Bard!" Huffed the black knight, whose spear folded into a panel that slid into a groove on the odd armor. Then, with a practiced movement, the knight pressed something on the jaw of her full face helmet, and it spit apart with a sucking sound, allowing writhing black hair to twist free from the back of her head as a pale, female human face was revealed under the black armor. Said face was glaring at Gandalf. "Well, Gandalf- if that is your real name, please be silent if Smaug the Terrible has stated that you should be silent. Do you understand?"

Gandalf sulked. Silently.

"While that is... Entertaining, my question still hasn't been answered." Smaug refocused on Bilbo. "Now, **who are you, what are you, and where do you come from? No riddles now- I have not the time!** "

"Bilbo Baggins!" Squeaked Bilbo as that voice plucked at some primeval terror in his tiny soul. "A hobbit of the Shire!"

"Hobbit?" The dragon's tongue flicked out, then back in like that of a snake- if snakes could have a tongue that weighed more than a man. "I have not met your kind before, and would like to speak with you after this audience. Bard will fetch you when that time is near. Now..." He looked amongst the dwarves, glowing eyes flicking from face to face. "Eldest dwarf, who is your leader?"

"I will not betray the leader of this company!" Shouted Balin.

"Betray?" Smaug laughed again, then stopped as he watched the dwarves huddle up. "You are not jesting? Why do you think you are here?"

"... I don't know." Admitted Bilbo, who was beginning to think that he was missing something.

"Then be informed: I, Smaug the Tyrannical, have been looking for some dwarves to help me map out Erebor, repair it, and turn it back into a profitable city." The dragon's massive head turned to look at a new arrival. "Bain! Welcome back. Please take a squad of mounted guards and escort the elven-King into my hoard- there is an item they have earned."

"Yes, my lord." The elven contingent, now encircled by seven armed and armored men riding on Silences walked into the mountain as Smaug turned back to the Dwarves.

The dumbstruck dwarves were more than a little surprised, and were trying to wrap their heads around what was just said.

"You... Want us to work for you?" Pieced together Balin.

Smaug looked incredulous at the mere possibility that his words may be doubted. "Of course! Erebor is a dwarven city, and you are dwarves!" He eyed them for a moment before smirking. "I need a few more than thirteen dwarves to do a mapping done properly, let alone reconstruction... How soon could you get more dwarves to come here?"

"More dwarves?" Choked Thorin, who couldn't believe this. Would it really be this easy to return to his home?

"Eris, are they just going keep repeating what I say?" Smaug muttered, to which Eris, and even Bilbo chuckled.

"I am sorry, oh Smaug the Tremendous." Balin took a few steps forward. "But an amiable meeting between our group and yourself was... Not really considered when we set out."

"That's an understatement." Muttered Bilbo.

"Be that as it may, now, what I need are more dwarves." Smaug rumbled. "How quickly can you get them here, and what do you need to do it?"

That snapped Thorin out of his mental orbit. "The Arkenstone! We need the Arkenstone to unite the separated dwarven clans."

The dragon drummed his fingers on a spur of the black substance they stood upon. "Ah, yes... That thing. While I could give it to you to take, it alone is valued as a great percentage of my hoard."

"I need it to reunite the clans!" Thorin plaintively explained. "Without ownership of it, I have little sway with the other dwarves."

Smaug thought for a moment, before an eye flicked over to look at Gandalf. "Do you have some suggestion, Olórin, to this problem?"

Gandalf started. "I... I would consul caution, in this case."

"I see..." Smaug returned his focus to Thorin. "In that case, your kinsmen there should act as messengers. Summon the clans- you may have possession of the stone provided that it never leaves my territory. Eris, would you send one of your thunder-birds to retrieve it?"

Her hair, which had to this point been flexing as if underwater, stiffened for a moment, before relaxing into the gentle swirling effect they had been occupying before. "Done. I think I've learned everything I can from it anyway."

"No!" Shouted the dwarves, almost in unison.

"The Heart must never leave the Mountain's sight- it may crumble into dust otherwise!" Balin exclaimed, but then there was a thunderclap above them, and another bird appeared- this one clutching a jewel almost as big as it was, wings beating madly.

Smaug held out a talented hand, and the bird dropped the stone into it before coming to rest, panting, on Eris's shoulder.

"The mountain, or the stone?" Rumbled Smaug.

"Yes!" Chorused the dwarves.

"Well then, best those who know the most should be the ones to hold it." Smaug extended the wing-hand, and the Arkenstone, towards the group. "But-" he pulled the hand a little. "You must agree not to attempt to depose me, to submit to my decisions, and to acknowledge me as the king of Erebor and associated territories. In return, you will be my... Vassals?" The dragon looked towards Eris, who nodded slightly. "Yes, my vassals. I will protect my territories from invasion, and keep those within prosperous and safe. I will allow a great deal of autonomy, but remember this, _dwarves_..." Steam erupted from the sides of his maw. "I could have killed all of you when I took Erebor- but I did **not.** "

Thorin, who was looking slightly lost, looked to Balin, who nodded his assent, and quickly signed 'It's the best deal we're going to get'.

He knelt. "I, Thorin son of Thrain, son of Thror, hereby pledge my Oaken Shield and Axe, along with my service, to Smaug, High King Under the Mountain, as Dwarven King Under the Mountain."

"I, as High King Smaug, accept the service of the Dwarven King. So it is said, so shall it be." Nodding magnanimously, Smaug did _something_ , and a bright flash of light blinded the onlookers for a moment. "By my power, it is said and complete. Also, High King?" The dragon grinned. "I love the ring to that."

There, on the doorstep of Erebor, King Thorin took the Arkenstone from the hand of High King Smaug, and planning began in earnest.

* * *

Several hours later, Bilbo was sitting in a tent. It wasn't an ordinary tent, but was constructed out of several ship sails that the townsfolk of Dale had supplied from their spare stores- and that Smaug had paid for.

Paid for! A dragon, paying for things- the concept boggled his mind.

The table also boggled his mind- but for several separate reasons.

The first reason, was that it was larger than the tent- specifically, there was a segment outside the tent specifically for Smaug... Appropriately sized for a dragon, of course, which made the entire thing colossal.

Then there was the fact that, while it was entirely made of wood according to Bard, the surface was coated in the same sort of material that made up the ground, or floor, of the doorstep.

Oh, and then there was the shape. Ignoring the dragon-sized budge outside the tent, the segment inside was missing. Instead, there was a series of fire pits, with cooks bustling from fire to fire cooking various animals- deer, sheep, goats, lots of fish, a pig, and something that apparently roamed the plains to the south and east of the mountain in large numbers. Eris called it a 'beeffalo', and there was much talk of trying to farm them- although Eris laughed when they talked about it.

Tasted somewhat like cow.

On top of everything else, a huge section of the table moved. Somehow, the innermost areas of the table were carved and separated into scale-like structures, each with rollers on the bottom side, which allowed them to slot together into a single, mostly seemless belt that wound around the table carrying platters of cooked meats from the various animals and vegetables that were being served.

It was turned by some men at a crank, who would switch out every half hour to allow the previous shift a break. A few of the dwarves even tried it, and Dwalin declared that it might make some young-ones more patient.

Fili and Kili looked a bit uncomfortable at hearing that, but as the feast continued, they became more and more mellow.

Bilbo picked up a piece of meat, and was about to take a bite- having just snagged some of it before the tray passed him by- when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

It was Bain. The two had been introduced at the start of the feast, but he had been whisked off to be introduced to the dwarves. "Master Baggins? High King Smaug wishes to speak with you."

Bilbo looked down at his plate, filled with more food then he had seen in the last two weeks traveling. The fact that he had eaten four previous plates of the same hadn't even crossed his mind. "May I bring food to the conversation?"

"I don't see why not- just ask if you may eat first. My lord is somewhat... Touchy about that sort of thing." Bain stated with some certainty.

Thoughts of what a touchy dragon entailed ruined what was left of Bilbo's appetite. "Never mind- I'm fine."

"Good." The two walked through one of the many overlapping flaps (the tent was going to be reused after all), and saw Smaug.

Bilbo had expected the dragon to gorge on meat, like some of the carrion-birds he had seen on these travels. Consuming as much in as short a time as possible.

But, in an odd contrast, Smaug ate delicately, using the razor-edge of a greatsword like a knife to disassemble the animal, then have the chefs in front of him roast the parts of the beeffalo quickly and efficiently. Not much roasting was happening, but enough so that he could stab the meat with a claw, which he would then delicately smell, then eat.

It was off-putting.

After consuming an entire beeffalo that way, and then finishing cutting up another one, Smaug noticed the man and hobbit standing beside him.

"Sit down little Hobbit. Your service is appreciated Bain." The dragon intoned regally- which was a feat in and of itself, since it was holding a greatsword like one normally holds a knife that's just a little too small.

Bain bowed, and withdrew back into the tent.

Now, High King Smaug focused his attention on the Hobbit, who was looking uncomfortable. "How was the food?"

Bilbo swallowed. "It was good, oh high king."

"Few know this." The dragon casually stated as it took another bite. "But we can feel _lies_!" Smaug's massive head darted down and stopped half a foot from Bilbo, who had frozen with fear. " _Never lie to ME!_ " The head retracted as quickly as it came, and delicately took another bite of haunch. After a moment, he swallowed, and one eye glanced at the terrified halfling. "Now... Do you like the food?"

Bilbo took a shaky breath, and then, because of the lack of air, had to take another. "I-it was bet-t-ter than what w-we had on the road."

"True, but did you like it?" Repeated the dragon.

"Not much, oh High King." Bilbo closed his eyes, waiting for the flash of heat that would signify being burnt to a crisp, or the feeling of being impaled by a claw- or possibly even bisected by that greatsword the dragon was currently using as a knife.

"I see. Well, if you can suggest better recipes to the cooks, I think my subjects would appreciate it."

Bilbo risked opening an eye, and saw Smaug just... Talking.

"Eris has been collecting a great deal of knowledge since she managed to get Bard's mate to teach her the runes, and has been making so many lists- my subjects needed to empty a room of treasure just to fit the books in properly." Smaug rolled his eyes, although Bilbo could only see one. "Only a few days ago she had been ranting about how little there was around here that was unique or new- maybe some not-quite human recipes would help distract her."

"Distract?" Bilbo was now a bit lost- and he was beginning to resent that feeling.

"Yes. She's new to this world. But enough about me and my affairs- let us talk about you." The dragon took another bite. "What are Hobbits known for? What are you good at?"

Seeing the indecision, Smaug rolled his eyes again.

"I am not planning on enslaving, killing, torturing, or otherwise causing harm to you or your people." He deadpanned. "I need people that have specialized skills."

The dragon gestured towards the tent.

"It's why I need the dwarves. Men. Elves perhaps, although I do not know if even Eris could find a use for them." Smaug took another bite. "Without people there is no trade. Gold is important, my hoard as much so, but to see it doing work? Under my direction? That is worth a greater hoard. And to see it grow, I need people who are good at what they do. Now, hobbit... What are you good at? What are hobbits better at than anyone?"

Bilbo leaned back in his chair, and thought about it. "We like to farm. We like food, you see- and lots of it. Baking, brewing, searing, preserving... All of that is what we like to so. Well..." He amended. "Eat and smoke pipe-weed and enjoy time with our friends and loved ones."

Smaug swallowed the piece of meat he had been eating, and placed down the greatsword, eyes closing in contemplation for a minute or so. Then, after a little delay, his eyes popped open, and he grinned. "Well then Master Hobbit, how would you like a job?"

* * *

 **Ch 10- end**

* * *

Hey everyone, I hope you enjoyed that chapter. I had a great deal of fun writing it, and I also hope that you are willing to leave a review.

I know this story hasn't turned out like my other ones, but I hope it is a pleasant tale nonetheless.

Let me know in your review if you think Smaug would help deal with the attacking army, or do something else entirely.

Hope your week has started well- and, as always, take it easy.


	11. Chapter 11 - Snapshots

(A/N- start)

Yeah... I spent some time on this. I wanted to show a few snapshots of the days after the 10th chapter.

So I did... And it took a little while to write to my satisfaction.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of Tolkein, or Prototype. I wouldn't be working for a CoE team and chasing geese if I did.

(A/N- end)

* * *

 **Ch 11- Snapshots**

* * *

 _Two days after the feast, outside the fortress of Dol Guldur._

Gandalf fell off the Silence he had been riding, and tried not to vomit. The Silence moved it a way that was unique among riding animals- it's head stayed perfectly still while it's body writhed over the landscape. Since the rider was sitting in a natural saddle that formed from the beast's horns, it should have been a very smooth ride.

And it was. But Gandalf was used to a very bumpy ride, and the lack of sensation and movement unnerved him extremely.

"Are you alright?" The somewhat musical voice of the source of his nausea asked, smirking slightly. From the short journey they had experienced together, Eris has made it perfectly clear that she wasn't particularly fond of Gandalf- and Gandalf returned the sentiment. "If you needed to rest during the trip, you should have just said so."

"He is indeed old." Galadriel stated as she and Elrond both rode up in their own Silences- Eris had brought a dozen of the offputting beasts with them. "But he knows more than I do about his health."

Radagast pulled up in his bunny-sled, looking somewhat confused while absently petting the black thunder-bird that, while looking smug, was perched on his hat. "Gandalf, why did this odd creature ask for me to be here?"

"Those things speak?" Gandalf asked wearily. "Why am I not surprised that creatures that she controls can speak."

"It should be fairly obvious." Muttered his mount, which caused everyone except Eris to jump back in shock.

"Setting that disturbing moment aside." Elrond stated as he pulled out his swords. "Why are we here Mithrandir? I didn't get a chance to ask during the ride."

Unsaid was the additional 'because I was screaming like a little bitch due to the excessive speeds that my mount was traveling'. Out of courtesy, no-one mentioned this fact.

Gandalf leaned on his staff, belaying the weariness that plagued his bones these days. "High-King Smaug-"

"Wait!" Radagast held up a hand. "The dragon is a king now?"

"Yes." Sighed Gandalf. "Smaug said he could feel all of us- all the currently-present Maiar. And he named Sauron as one of them."

There was silence at this statement.

"Yeah, I had to ask about that myself." Eris was lounging against her dedicated Silence, which she had named Oculus (for reasons of her own), with her long black hair spinning and twisting in the air around her like it was alive.

"The dragon named four of us." Gandalf managed convey a sense of imminent doom. "And, as you know, there are only three wizards here in the East."

Galadriel nodded gravely. "Which is why Gandalf came to me. Between my scrying and the direction that Smaug gave, we found that he may still be within Dol Guldur."

"We can finally end what Man failed to end." Elrond gravely stated.

Eris gave him an odd look. "Ooookayyyyy... Right... Look, I don't even know why you wanted to get here so fast. I know literally nothing about this other than the fact that a creature like Gandalf here, one named Marion, is in or near this castle." She lifted a hand, and watched as sinuous black hair twined around her fingers.

The thunder-bird lifted off, wings a blur as it moved in a manner reminiscent of a hummingbird, over to nip at her hair before settling on one of the horns of Oculus. Oculus, for his part, cracked half-a-dozen eyes to look at the bird, before closing them and drifting into what looked like sleep.

Galadriel looked at Eris with an expression is flight distaste. "This is not a confrontation you could win in any case, so you have no need to understand anything here." She turned to the other three members of the party. "Mithrandir, Elrond, you will come with me. Radagast, do you think you can contribute?"

"From a distance, perhaps." The small man sighed. "But you know my talents are not with death, but life."

The elf-lady patted his shoulder gently. "As are mine- but we may be facing servants of the enemy here."

Elrond and Gandalf began walking towards the fortress, with Gandalf following just behind them.

Eris looked over to where Radagast was gently petting the large four-winged hummingbird. The thunder bird appeared to appreciate the attention. "Have you ever felt that you were regulated to the sidelines?"

"Of course." The wizard agreed, pulling a small piece of fruit out of a pocket and watching with rapt attention as the bird's beak opened into three prongs, which gently took hold of the fruit, and slicing it into tiny pieces with an ease that showed how sharp the edges of said beak were. "But I do what I can to help. Sauron, or Marion as he was once called, is dangerous, and a threat to all life in Middle Earth."

"So..." Eris drew out the sound. "Do you think I should help them? I mean, there are a great deal of warm entities in that structure, most of them larger than Gandalf or his two elf-buddies."

The wizard snapped to focus on her. "How many?"

Eris counted under her breath for a moment, before shrugging. "Maybe a few hundred. More as I look deeper, below the castle, but the soil and stone tends to blur the ping and heat signatures."

Radagast stood up, audibly creaking. "That is not good, not good at all!" He brandished his staff. "I would not see my friends be crushed under a tide of orcs or worse!"

Eris gently pushed him back down, hair spiraling into various odd shapes in the distinct lack-of-wind. "Settle down old man. I'll go in and help your friends." She patted him on the head, and whistled once.

Every since Silence shot to their feet, and their horns ratcheted around- the buldges concealing hidden mechanisms, allowing their horns to either be seats for riders, or, like now, wedge-shaped helmets that covers their faces and turned the normally disturbing creatures into the stuff of nightmares.

"Protect the riders, as usual." Several slight sneezes, the canine version of a laugh could be heard if one was listening for it. "Go."

On that word, the dozen beasts surged over the ground, swarming into the castle with a speed that denied belief.

"They are... Fast." Radagast deadpanned.

Then Eris grinned, and Radagast shrank back- it was the grin of a hunter, one that knew its prey was limping and ready to become food.

"Yes..." She smirked, and took a few steps towards the castle. "But I shouldn't let them have all the fun. I will be back in a moment... Oculus, protect the old man."

The remaining silence opened a half-dozen eyes, and then, like a big cat, grabbed the Wizard with it's paws, and curled around him.

Eris jumped, cracking the ground as she shot straight into the castle, comet-trail of hair behind her spiraling into points as she ascended.

* * *

 _Back in Erebor_

Smaug rubbed a spot right next to one of his horns with a knuckle. Two dwarves had caused him more pain than the entire mountain-full had before this moment.

The reason?

Balin and Ori, two of the Dwarven Commanders working under the dwarf 'king' Thorin, had approached Smaug with a contract, to solidify their position. Well, several contacts, all in fiddly little writing that his eyes couldn't even see.

So he sent for Astrid, who could read dwarf- although, for whom the legalese was taxing and confusing beyond all reason. She did manage to translate it, and, as he was going over the document in his head, a few small issues occurred to him.

"A share of my teasure?" Smaug hissed, his eyes snapping open to look at the two calm dwarves, one with fairly large spectacles and the other with an ear-trumpet. "You would have me give up more of my treasure for uses that I would not know of?"

The two dwarves looked at each other, and one sighed.

"Yes, high king." Balin adjusted his ear-trumpet. "See, we came on this venture expecting to receive a share of the treasure when, well... You were killed."

Smaug smirked. "I see..."

Ori adjusted his spectacles. "But since that is obviously not going to happen, and that you want to bring more dwarves back to Erebor, we have to make it worth their while."

"Living in the city, access to the (frankly massive) farming zones, military support from Dale with the Silenced Riders, and with ME both keeping my territory safe is not enough?" Smaug couldn't help but sound amused. Such audacity! "Well, I did want to know what they needed..."

"Yes, the Arkenstone. Thorin needs it to establish legitimacy. But there is still the matter of damages." Ori stated.

"Loss of wages and crops." Added Balin.

"And let's not forget displacement!" Ori took off his glasses, cleaned them with a handkerchief, and put them back on. "Our clans-dwarves need to travel nearly a hundred miles just to get here! That's not a cheap journey by any accounts, even riding."

"Reimbursement would ease a great many potential naysayers..." Considered Smaug.

"For that, we need-"

"Treasure." Smaug interrupted the dwarves- he wasn't paying attention to which was which at the moment. "And that is the problem- I want to maintain a set currency valuation, and not every problem can be solved with gold."

It was worth every pang of this headache to see the utterly perplexed look cross the dwarves faces.

"But..." He rumbled, stretching out his wings in the cavernous hall. "I am sure we can come to a suitable arrangement."

Balin raised his ear-trunpet. "What do you mean by 'set currency valuation'?"

* * *

 _Dol Guldur_

As the two elves and wizard searched they city, they found nothing.

"Is it possible that Smaug was wrong?" Elrond wondered aloud as he reached out, trying to find any traces of darkness with his soul and other sense.

"I can feel the spell of concealment on this place." Gandalf scowled. "Unpleasant and oily, it clings to everything."

"I concur." Galadriel held out a hand to Gandalf. "Mithrandir, shall we exorcise the evil from this place?"

The old man nodded, and a faint smile cross his face. "As it was in the old days, my lady. I'll lead and you channel?"

There was a tap on a ledge above them, and a voice filtered down even as the three sought the source.

"Sounds... Erotic." Eris purred as she jumped down from a beam, landing with a thud and cracking of flagstone under her feet. "But please go on- I will keep an eye out for the orcs surrounding us."

"You can see them?!" Demanded Elrond, before Galadriel raised a hand to forestall him.

"Eris, we are about to preform delicate magic. Please do not make... Unsavory comments." The elf-lady deadpanned. Then, quick as a flash, she placed a hand on Gandalf's shoulder, and her eyes began glowing. "Now, my friend."

Gandalf lifted his staff, and intoned gravely. "Cé ná ulco sis nurtaina!" He slammed his staff's butt into the flagstones with his last syllable, and a surge of light pulsed over the area in a rapidly-expanding glowing bubble.

Eris blinked, as she felt nothing as that wave passed. "Huh. Neat."

"You feel... The same? Not unsettled or uncomfortable?" Elrond inquired, even as dozens of orcs were highlighted by the bubble.

The orcs seemed surprised, but only hesitated as the wave slid over them.

"Why would I feel uncomfortable?" Eris's hair shot out, needle-thin spikes with miniature whipcracks passing over entire squads of orcs and leaving them to drop to the ground, even as her Silences bowled into the clusters of snarling orcs and tore through their ranks, leaving only the silent dead in their wake..

"I didn't feel anything then- and I will have questions for Gandalf after this errand is over. Now..." Her hairs snagged an Orc, even as he leapt from above and behind her. "Where is AZOG!" She yelled, the sheer volume shaking dust from the ancient stones.

The Orc in her grasp chuckled, even as her hair began to crush and perforate him. "He is far from here, witch. He was told to leave by the master, who awaits your death!" He laughed momentarily, right before his body fountained blood as he was diced by the multitude of hairs.

"That was... Distasteful." Galadriel deadpanned as she wiped some blood off her cheek. "And thank you, Eris, for removing so many from this world."

Eris whistled, and the ledges around her were quickly filled with the Silences. "Someday... Someday soon." She said offhandedly. "One of you is going to fill me in on this world's history- and I have a feeling that I am not going to like it."

"Be that as it may, there are still nine wraiths here- and Sauron, to contend with." Gandalf deadpanned.

Said wraiths decided to take this moment to appear from various statues scattered around the courtyard, wielding the blades that the statues held in now-misty fingers. They couldn't be seen directly- but to Eris and the Silences they appeared to be exceptionally cold spots.

Galadriel sighed, brought her hands together, and closed her eyes- only to flare with power as a corona of burning white flame emitted from the air around her.

Eris took a step back. "Well, that escalated quickly."

Elrond glared at her.

 _"Ash nazg durbatulûk."_

The voice echoed throughout the dead city, causing torches that the orcs had dropped to sputter out, and the meager starlight to quickly be overtaken by clouds.

"What just happened?" Eris asked in the silence.

 _"Ash nazg gimbatul."_

The wraiths exploded into movement- only for each to be pounced on by a Silence. This didn't actually do anything to the wraiths, and they passed right through the creatures without touching them- though their weapons remained trapped.

 _"Ash nazg thrakatulûk."_

Elrond ran one of the weaponless wraiths through, causing to scream and shatter- then reform elsewhere.

"Um... How do you hurt these things?" Eris flinched as she felt something swipe through her body, forcing her internal temperature to drop. She couldn't see these things, she couldn't really touch these things- how the hell would you fight them? She began switching from spectrum to spectrum, finally seeing something odd in the infrared.

Galadriel pulsed out a sphere of white fire, which obliterated the wraiths nearest her- but soon they reformed, cold spots against the rapidly chilling darkness. "Fire. Light and fire always harm those of darkness and cold."

Eris blinked. "But that doesn't..." She sighed. "Fine." Her hair curled around her, as the Silence pack took up positions around the fighting, then taking cover.. "Y'all might want to cover your eyes."

And the hair cocoon unfurled.

Light, light so bright that it burned through the closed eyes of Gandalf, Elrond, and Galadriel- but all three basked in it. It etched the stones, emitting immense amounts of heat even as it poured our of the woman's armor, causing sunburns on Galadriel, Elrond and Gandalf's faces.

The wraiths weren't so lucky. Screaming, and writhing, the spots got colder, but eventually they just appeared to... Evaporate. Fade into the background.

A second or so later, the light abruptly shut off, and Eris, panting heavily, leaned over, her hair retracting very, very quickly. A Silence jumped into the retreating mass, just as her armor opened and a flood of clear slime erupted from hidden ports, all the chemical energy it contained had been used up.

After a second or so, with her hair only down to her ankles in length now (compared to the reach-across-a-town-square-to-crush-you length it had been), Eris sat down on another Silence, which buoyed her up gently. "Yeah... Not doing that again until I get a richer food storage system set up."

 _"Agh burzum-ishi krimpatul!"_

The echoes died away as a spark of flame emerged from the middle of the courtyard, appearing to walk forward as it slowly got bigger. Once it stopped walking, the armored figure, flanked by wings of shadow, flared it's wings and laughed.

That was not a pleasant sound.

"Yeah... No." Deadpanned the woman. "I'm not dealing with this shit."

Neither was the scream as Eris had gestured with a hand, and every single Silence opened it's mouth and sprayed a rapidly cooling foam at the entity. Soon it was buried under a mountain of foam- a glowing mountain of foam that had smothered it.

"If any of you want to pitch in!" Eris yelled, jumping onto a wall and clinging there as her armor morphed into large, pulsating sacks, and two arms tipped with sphincters extended from her back. "Now would be the time!"

Galadriel began glowing again- but this time, it was as if lit from within. Not in the attractive, flushed appearance that sentence would imply- more like someone had removed her organs, blood, bones, muscles, and then filled the resulting structure with moonlight. She pointed a glowing clawed hand at the burning wraith, even as it emerged from the foam. **"You have no power here! Traitor! Nameless! Shapeless! I send you back to the void, from when you _came_!"**

Sauron was flung back- and through several buildings, segments of city, and ruins, before shooting away towards Mordor.

Eris blinked a few times, before throwing up her hands. "What!" She pointed at the now slumping Galadriel. "The _fuck!?_ "

Elrond grimaced. "That last word- I do not know what it meant, but it did not sound appropriate."

"Doesn't matter." Eris snapped, turning to Gandalf. "Hey Gandalf- how the hell do Orcs reproduce? They only don't have any _reproductive gametes..._ Okay, you didn't understand that. Um... They don't have the method by which children are created within mortals."

Galadriel blushed as Elrond and Gandalf gaped, all three completely poleaxed by the question.

* * *

Some of the most interesting and rewarding work is done through management. Finding what needs to be done, who can do it well, making sure they have what they need to do it well, and then repeating to make sure projects get done on time, and under budget. But, since it makes for terrible storytelling, this is usually glossed over.

Therefore, we fast-forward just a bit before the Orcs arrive.

* * *

 _Three weeks after Dol Guldur_

The city was prepared. Defenses had been erected, people had been armed, and the majority of the civilian population had been evacuated (along with whatever belongings they didn't want to risk being looted by orcs) into a large, easily defensible chamber within the bowls of Erebor.

Bard sat atop his mount, surrounded by his men, on one of the rooftops, looking in the general direction that he had been informed that attack would come.

Unlike the last few times that Laketown had been attacked (where the floating town had retracted the drawbridge, and sent a message to the elves), Dale could be easily sieged by the horde of orcs, goblins, and a few trolls that they had spotted.

They had plenty of warning though- when Eris and Gandalf had returned from wherever they had gone, she had begun training his men on the process of riding and basic mounted combat aboard a Silence. Most of it can be simplified to 'hold on, don't fall off, and remember the Silence is smarter than you- so trust it', which was more than a little condescending, but the things were fast. And they even had weapons and armor- a halberd that could be braced against the horns of a Silence, every one thin and made centuries ago as some unclaimed purchases for the Horse-emperor of the Rohhirim before their empire collapsed, and plate armor that covered the rider and the face of the Silence (the only vulnerable parts).

They had known that the Dwarves were arrive a full day in advance, and they had known about the Orc horde for the last three... Only because Silence Riders had run patrols on Smaug's instruction.

Dwarves had been easy to incorporate- Smaug was a little desperate to actually get an idea of what was left in his home, and once the population had settled in, they had quickly begun re-using areas that the human inhabitants couldn't understand the purpose of.

The dwarves were still getting used to the idea that a Dragon wouldn't be trying to kill them through some obscure method, but they were working on that.

Across the high plain that sat between Dale and Erebor, farmland lay quiet, temporary houses evacuated and farm animals hidden within Erebor. Between every field and along the terraces that had been carved into one of the hills, black trees stood out amount the green, untamed paths, and brown of fertilized (mixed with animal shit- a new concept that Eris had introduced, to a great deal of grumbling) fields.

They were sleeping Silences- and Bard was severely creeped out by that fact. One of the most dangerous hunting animals he had ever seen could pretend to be a tree if it wanted.

He sought down a shudder, even as he turned his attention to the Doorstep of Erebor.

A few legions of armored dwarves manned the entrance, spread out around it with their own mounts- pigs mainly. Armored, huge, and mean pigs.

Bard was ripped out of his musings as the Silent Trees that he could see began changing colors- pulsing through red, blue, yellow, and shiny white in ripples away from one of the hills. Eris had told him that might happen- but it was still unsettling. It was even more unsettling when several trees stopped flashing colors, ripped themselves out of the earth, and slithered away at the insane speeds that a Silence could move at.

The giant worms that erupted from the ground were not a pleasant sight either. Thankfully, they didn't remain present above ground for long, and after all of that?

After all of that, the Horde of Orcs was a more welcome sight. The size of said horde... Not so much.

The sight of dwarven ranks parting, leaving enough room for Smaug to climb out of the gate, was a very, very welcome sight.

* * *

Azog the Defiler stood on the edge of ruins very, very high above what would become the killing floor... His killing floor. His land. His horde, and his hoard.

The Orc didn't even smirk as he thought the pun- he had more important things to do... Controlling the battle with semaphore towers would be hard enough, but his goblins did good enough work.

As his army erupted from the earth- first, the Were-worms dug the path, positioning his forces in an ideal place from which to assault both Erebor, Dale, and-

Was that a dragon?

He muttered the question to his lieutenant, who muttered an affirmative. Yes- it is a dragon.

"Glob..." Azog swore. This would be a very short campeign. Still, he signaled for the trolls to attack towards Erebor, while the main bulk of his force would follow them.

His army, after a moment of indecision, charged.

* * *

Ten thousand orcs, goblins, and a smattering of armored trolls- all on foot since the Warg cavalry had been lost at Dol Guldur, ran at the dragon and his dwarven door-guards, while the five siege trolls and their crews set up on a rise so that they could actually begin firing.

None of them got that far.

As the dwarves turtled, shields overlapping to form a wall and roof that would have made the Romans proud, Smaug inhaled.

A small, black-armored figure, who was overlooked by everyone until this point as she was standing next to a dragon, whistled twice. The odd harmonics echoed across the battlefield, not slowing or stopping the orcs- but that wasn't the primary effect.

A thunderous buzz sprang up, and anyone from Dale or Erebor would have sworn, hands down, that a cloud of black specks that buzzed like the largest swarm of bees ever flowed out of Erebor and rose like a wave over the battlefield.

Then Smaug exhaled. A white-hot Lance of flame emerged from his maw, as if the sun momentarily had been summoned to earth, burning away every single Orc in it's path, and leaving nothing but glowing glass and molten iron behind once he stopped.

That made everyone pause. The orcs stopped mid-charge... Well, slid to a stop.

"You dare attack me!" Thundered Smaug. "My home? My tenants?! You do not just march an army into anywhere protected by a dragon without negotiation, you... Trespassers!" His eyes narrowed. "The penalty for such an action... Is death. DIE."

The wave descended, and the orcs began to retreat, even as the first siege troll was finally loaded and launched. It didn't help.

The tide of thunderbirds accelerated, going from a hover to supersonic in less than the distance of Smaug's wing. The shockwave shattered the Orc line, even though no Orc was touched, their bodies were crushed as if beneath the fists of a giant. The wave passed around the siege trolls, shattering the wood-metal structures that had been formed into the catapults that they were carrying like cheap glass. Only two of the massive trolls survived, and one of them couldn't stand- it just lay on its face, whimpering as the bones in its arms and legs had been obliterated by the concussive pulses- as had one eye.

The wave of thunderbirds retreated back into Erebor, leaving behind a devastated army- which the Dwarven line waited for. At most, one in ten survived, but that was still over a thousand orcs, goblins, and trolls combined.

Smaug looked down towards his forces, his glowing gaze sweeping over the Dwarven Warriors. "I will leave the mopping up to you. Capture of possible..." The dragon smirked as he turned around. "They can always push ore carts." He climbed back into the mountain, and his forces, both on the Doorstep and in Dale roared in approval.

As if that was the signal, both sides acted in concert. The dwarves closed their ranks, and reformed into a single, massive battering ram a few hundred strong, while the riders in Dale set off, their black mounts quickly closing with the main horde.

There was one siege troll still standing though- bleeding from ears and nose, staggering, but still standing on feet and knuckles.

There was a titanic wet tearing-ripping-thud, and suddenly that troll had a hole where it's chest should be. In seconds, the creature was engulfed in tentacles that appeared fibrous on its huge frame, and collapsed as the black tendrils began to implode, leaving Eris behind once her hair had vanished. She soon disappeared, jumping high into the sky in the general direction of the semaphore that had provided the initial instructions for the Orc forces.

The surviving Orc forces found themselves between the metaphorical hammer and anvil at this point- the hammer being played by the Dale Riders, while the anvil was being played by the Dwarves. As orcs ran from the Riders, they inevitably found themselves diced by the spiky turtle that the dwarves had formed into, while those who fought were quickly cut down by the halberds of the Riders.

Infantry was generally on its weakest while in the move unless charging, and being pincered by mounted cavalry alongside stationary infantry was not ideal.

At the beginning of the battle there had been five hundred dwarves, fifty human-Silence pairs, and ten thousand orcs/trolls/goblins. At the end, less than half an hour in, neither human nor dwarves had any casualties other than being sick due to their ride or the sheer amount of blood that was covering everything, while there were eighty captured orcs, a hundred or so goblins, and two trolls (one mountain, one siege).

It would take months to plow all the blood up and remove the debris from the fields.

* * *

Azog was... Well, he had no words for what just happened.

His forces had been disintegrated under a force so overwhelming it actually scared him, and then had been expertly skewered by a sledge-and-shield. Now... He had no horde.

There was a slight whistling sound, and he looked up- only to see a man-sized black shape slam into the ground next to him, and whirl around, a black whip slicing through the semaphore towers. The insect-like carapace retracted, and floating black hair drifted out from the confines of the helmet as it revealed a woman.

Her grin unsettled Azog- for a very, very short time. The arm that had sliced through the semaphore poles shot out, grabbed him with tendrils as thick as his fingers, and dragged him towards the small woman. He didn't even have time to speak before she stabbed an arm into his stomach, and pain flooded through his body, followed by a curious numbness. He would kill her for wounding him-

By the time that thought had crossed his mind, his mind and thoughts belonged to Eris.

Two hours later, she tossed a metal arm and the empty head of Azog the Defiler onto the waiting lap of Thorin- and then offered to turn it into a cup.

Azog the Defilier was never forgotten- if only because the head was always seen as the Dwarf King's goblet.

* * *

 _Several weeks later..._

Bilbo patted down his pockets as he returned to rode into the Shire aboard Oculus- Eris's personal Silence. He was met with an odd mixture of wonder from the children (probably Tooks based on their noses) and a great deal of fear from the adults. It made sense- he was riding a monster, from their point of view.

That's why he made sure to greet everyone he recognized, and say at least a cursory 'Goodmorning!' To everyone else. They usually relaxed at this point. Still, people were paying him some deference, and he didn't want to have his errand put off too much.

Since the battle, he had been very, very busy. Preparing space for hobbits to begin building was difficult enough, especially since he didn't know what was needed for that sort of preparation. And, since it was winter, Dale was relying on the odd 'plump helmet' crops that the dwarves had managed to grow... Something about Orc blood made the weird pumpkin-things grow quickly, even underground, and they had enough food- even some sort of alcohol- for the winter.

Anyway, he had needed to work out with Eris and Balin what was needed to establish a community of Hobbits on the lonely mountain. Land was a given- they had lots of it. Wood would be needed to build their homes, and the elves had agreed over a month ago to allow woodcutters to harvest trees from the surrounding forests, so that was fine. Food they would have come spring, and the ground was rich enough after the battle that it could support multiple types of crops planted in the way hobbits loved.

Land was set aside, wood was stockpiled, and a number of different types of seeds were cherry-picked and collected in preparation for the arrival.

As Bilbo rode to his house, he noticed that there was no-one near it- a fact that he found was both odd, but pleasant, as his relatives may have wanted to steal his house. Still, he did see his Gardner, Hamfast Gamgee. He grinned widely. "Hamfast! How have you been my old friend? I haven't seen you for a few months!"

"Master Bilbo?" The somewhat fat hobbit stood up, shears in hand, and smiled, brushing some of his wavy hair out of his face. "Where have you been?"

Then it hit him- a few months. Bilbo wince. "Oh, I haven't paid you for the last few months! I am so sorry about that, here-" he pulled out a saddlebag from behind the padding that this Silence allowed him to put on its head. "-your back-pay."

The older hobbit accepted the gold coins, and grinned. "You were always on time, and I knew when you returned I's patience would pay off."

"Patience usually does." Bilbo slid off the Silence, which grumbled before padding over to a spot of grass, and it's fur spread out to catch as much light as possible. "I've been traveling, and exploring the world a bit Hamfast- and you would not believe what I have found."

Hamfast leant against a fence post, nodding sagely. "Oh really Master Bilbo? Then tell me."

Bilbo took a deep breath, and told him.

Hamfast didn't believe him. Neither did anyone in the pub- but his relative Drogo and his recently-married wife Primula were interested, especially when he explained that Eris was willing to send something to collect any hobbits who wanted to look around the growing Erebor Territory. Drogo and Primula helped Bilbo encourage a number of other Brandybucks and Tooks, while Hamfast and his wife agreed to come along since 'every hobbit would have their own house'.

The massive gasbag with wings that arrived when he asked the Silence to call for said creature was not what he had in mind- but it was more than big enough for everyone they had brought, and it's many tendril-like bottom limbs were easily able to carry the associated luggage brought on by an anticipated move.

* * *

 **The End**

* * *

I hope everyone enjoyed the story! Reviews are appreciated, as always, and I hope you enjoy your Friday and weekend.

Take it easy!


End file.
